Brother, Lost
by JoyJoy101
Summary: Four brothers went on patrol. Only three came back. Two gave up. One still searches.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: This story was inspired by "The Perfect Son" by Ramica and "Butterfly" by Reinbeauchaser.

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Raphael's face stung from where the rain, whipped up by the wind, lashed him like glass. He could hear the cars on the bridge above, the sound of their tyres on the wet concrete masking the name he screamed into the night. A flash of lightning over the East River illuminated the scene before him. He dove forwards, his hands clawing at the air. He felt skin on skin contact for the briefest moment, but then the hand slipped from his grasp and he could do nothing but watch in horror as his brother tumbled into the churning darkness below.

Raphael woke as his face slammed into the concrete floor. He blinked stars from his eyes before running his tongue along his teeth. No blood and nothing was missing or chipped. This wasn't the first time he'd fallen from his hammock. The desperate struggle in his dreams had long impacted his reality, but he was damned if he was going to swap to a normal bed.

He lay on his front and tried not to listen to his brother's name echo off the quiet walls of the lair. His nightmares no longer brought anyone running, and he told himself it didn't matter. Nightmares had long been part of the fabric of this little family in the New York sewers, what made his so special?

"Just a dream," Raphael whispered to himself in the darkness. "It was just a dream."

He wasn't reassured. He knew a lie when he saw it.

Raphael could feel the tightness building in his chest and the sudden need to draw in as much oxygen as possible. He tried to bring his breathing under control, but the room suddenly seemed smaller. Much smaller. The walls felt like they were leaning over him, giant waves about to crash and suck him down, down, down, down into the churning darkness until everything was black and silent and the water was pressing all around waiting to drown—

He scrambled to his feet and headed out into the lair.

Just getting out of his room calmed him, and he took a few deep breaths. He could hear the faint sounds of his youngest brother sleeping in the room next to him, and when his breathing was under control, he padded over. Michelangelo was sprawled on his bed, his blanket on the floor and the comic book he'd been reading squashed underneath him. Raphael smirked and then tiptoed over; picking his way through the minefield that was his sibling's room. It took a few moments to free the comic, and he placed it on the bedside table. Then he looked down at his brother.

Michelangelo had a soft smile on his face. It pulled at the corners of his mouth and it looked like he had a secret only he knew; like the location of the last piece of chocolate cake. Raphael smirked again before bending to pick up the blanket. And stopped. He hadn't realised in the dark that it wasn't his brother's usual blanket, but now he could feel it. This one wasn't as soft as Michelangelo liked, or demanded. It was rough, as if the person who owned it wanted to be uncomfortable. Heart suddenly pounding, he turned the blanket over in his hands and squinted in the dark. The name sewn into the corner was unmistakable. A cold feeling washed over Raphael.

"Jerk..." he growled, twisting the blanket in his hands. He dumped the blanket in a heap on his brother and stormed back out into the lair.

Raphael stood, clenching and unclenching his fists as he counted to ten. And counted again. On the third go, his rage had faded enough for him to consider his next move, outside of going back and giving his brother a good kick. He glanced around the lair looking at his options. Donatello's room was in darkness and so was his laboratory. Not that he wanted to talk to him anyway. He didn't feel much like television, but then he spotted a faint flicker of light coming from the last occupied room.

He sighed. These late night meetings had become too common for his liking, but he didn't fight the inevitable.

Let the two insomniacs lean on each other, he thought.

He padded over and knocked, but didn't wait for an invitation to slide the door open. He never did.

Candlelight bounced off the walls giving the room a warm feeling. Raphael's eyes took in the untouched bed, the half-eaten dinner on the low table, and settled on his Master kneeling by a small shrine. Splinter had only recently recovered from a bad bout of the flu, and he couldn't ignore his father looked older and tireder then Raphael felt he should. How long did rats live for? He had no idea but pushed the thought away as Splinter turned and offered him a warm smile, gently waving him over. Raphael tried to return the smile but it turned into a grimace.

He shut the door behind him and knelt beside his father.

"Tea?"

Raphael hated the stuff but nodded all the same. It was part of this nightly routine and if he'd looked up, he would have caught the amused look on his father's face.

"Be careful, my son," Master Splinter warned, pushing a prepared cup into his hands, "it is hot."

Raphael groaned. The tea was always hot but it was their 'in' joke and another part of the ritual. The Dad joke made drinking the weakly flavoured water bearable. He could feel Master Splinter watching him.

"Are you unable to sleep, my son?"

"I was, but woke up," he replied, his voice rough. He put his cup down and sighed. The dream was fresh in his memory and his face still hurt. It had been a long time since he'd had dreamless sleep.

Splinter nodded.

"I too have had trouble sleeping."

Raphael glanced sideways at his father. The candle light flickered across him, highlighting the changing colour of his fur and the shadows under his eyes.

"Donatello could give you something?"

Splinter looked at him fondly.

"Advice you could well use, my son."

Raphael bit back a short reply that would have at the least earnt him a sharp look and at the worst, some form of punishment. Instead, Raphael pretended he hadn't heard him and took another sip of tea. Splinter didn't push and they sat in silence before Raphael cleared his throat.

"Mike's raiding his stuff again." He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he felt it seep in anyway. He didn't know what result he hoped for, but he felt like he had to tell someone.

Master Splinter sighed.

"Your brothers find comfort in different ways. Donatello buries himself in his work. Michelangelo likes to keep your brothers possessions near. You, my son ..." his voice trailed off.

He placed his cup down.

"For me, it is the small things. You and your brothers are all different yet you all walk the same," he said wistfully, staring into his tea. "Sometimes, when I'm not concentrating, my memory plays tricks on me and I don't realise it is you knocking on my door..."

Splinter trailed off again and Raphael finally raised his head, focusing on the shrine in front of him.

It was simple and its simpleness gnawed at Raphael.

How do you sum up a life cut short on three small shelves? he thought. He deserves so much more.

A small bonsai tree sat proudly on the middle shelf, the last present Splinter received before his family had been torn apart. It was flanked by a photograph on either side, one with the whole family and friends and the other, a photo of four brothers. A single photo sat on the top shelf.

It was only after he disappeared, the brothers realised they had few pictures of Leonardo. He had usually been behind the camera and they'd had to crop his individual image from a larger shot.

Raphael clenched his fists.

That was one of the many things he was going to change when he found his brother. Family photos. They'd drown in them.

Drowning...

Raphael shuddered and his father's hand landed lightly on his shoulder, squeezing in comfort.

The bottom shelf held his brothers twin katana.

Raphael reached out a shaky hand and briefly touched the nearest one, running his hand slowly over the hilt. It was covered in the same material as his brother's mask. They'd never found the mask he was wearing that night. They'd never found him.

"Moving on is not forgetting, my son."

Raphael wrenched his hand back like he'd been burnt.

"You sound like Don," he muttered darkly. His eyes flickered towards the door, as if he could pierce through them, across the lair, and into his brother's room and blind him with reason. Make him see. Truly see.

"I have spoken to your brother over the evenings you have been out. He said he has tried many times to talk to you."

Raphael snorted. 'Talk' was a rather long stretch. His last 'talk' with Donatello ended in a screaming match that had been building for months. They had barely spoken since. Michelangelo had said he wouldn't take sides, but that to Raphael was as good as throwing the towel in with the enemy. Just thinking about his brother sent his hands shaking and to hide it, he grabbed his cup and raised it to his lips.

"Your brother would not like to see you so unhappy."

Raphael's eyes flashed and he slammed the cup down.

"He's out there," he hissed. "He's out there somewhere and while they're mourning and 'moving on'—he made quotation marks in the air—I'm doing something about it. I'm turning New York upside down to find him. There's no evidence he didn't survive that fall."

He glared at his father.

"If he's dead, where's the body?"

"My son," Splinter said, hesitantly reaching out his hand and laying it on Raphael's arm. "Your brother loved you. He loved his family. If your brother survived, he would have returned."

He smiled, a smile that only held sadness.

"It has been three years. You need to let him go."

Raphael snatched his arm back and clambered to his feet. This was the first time Master Splinter had broached the topic, and he knew it only meant one thing.

He's giving up too, Raphael thought. He thinks Leo's dead. I don't have time for this.

"I'm going out."

He knew he was being rude but he didn't wait for a dismissal. He headed for the door and as he opened it, Raphael said over his shoulder.

"I don't care what you say. I don't care what Don says, or Mike or Casey. I'm not giving up. I'm never giving up."

He slammed the door shut and looked out into the lair.

"I'm going to find him," he snarled into the silence around him. It was a promise he had made to himself over the many years. "I'm going to find him. I'm going to bring him home."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: Thank you for the reviews! The Bayside Bridge doesn't exist but if it did, it would span the East River towards Long Island. I hope you enjoy.

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**Raphael has flashbacks, April gets a visitor, and we learn a little more about that night.**

Raphael's feet pounded the pavement. Darkness had long hung over the city but there was enough light pollution to give him plenty of shadows to hide in. The rhythm of his run was familiar to him. It was the same as the night before, and all the nights before that, stretching back three years.

He had no destination in mind but that didn't bother him. He'd broken into more warehouses, laboratories, apartments, and buildings, and run down more alleyways then he cared to count. There was nowhere he hadn't searched. Families had lived in New York for generations, yet Raphael knew more about this city then they could ever imagine. And not just the blatant things like locations of hidden gambling lounges or illegal fighting rings. The small things, like the sandwich shop that used out-of-date produce scavenged from neighbourhood bins. The woman on the third floor of the Dartmouth building who stole her neighbours drying clothing. Of partners who snuck up to the rooftop for a secret cigarette, or the teenagers who used the fire escapes to sneak out at night. He watched and he listened and then he would move on. He lived and breathed the grime of the city, and had delved into more of its secrets then he wished to share. Yet, for all his years scouring the city, he had nothing to show for it.

The thought he would never find his brother no longer brought him to his knees. It didn't overwhelm him, or fill him with a soul-crushing sadness. He'd lost six months the year before to a depression so deep he thought he would drown in a dry room. He'd learnt to let the feelings wash over him.

And he kept running.

Tonight, he wasn't focusing on where he was going but was lost in thought; replaying the night Leonardo disappeared.

xxx

"That necklace won't match that outfit!"

Raphael groaned. It was raining. It was windy. Lightning cracked around them. And Michelangelo wouldn't shut up.

The brothers had been heading back to the lair from a patrol run when they'd stumbled on a group of Purple Dragons and Foot Ninja robbing a jewellery store. One moment, they were chasing them through the city, the next, reinforcements had been called and they were fighting for their lives above the East River on the Bayside Bridge.

Between knocking Foot Ninja down, Raphael looked around him. This part of the bridge was undergoing repairs and he edged away from the railing. Or lack thereof. All that stood between him and a long fall into the East River was a single metal rod. It gave him a commanding view out over the harbour but this only made him groan. The storm they were in the middle of, with its lashing rain and fierce winds, was apparently only going to get worse.

To top it off, Michelangelo was shouting fashion tips at anyone unfortunate enough to be in hearing range.

"And pearls will not go with that Mohawk!" he shouted, flipping over a tall man with multi-coloured spiked hair. The man charged him, swinging a baseball bat but Michelangelo ducked, his chucks flashed, and another unconscious body joined the growing pile.

Michelangelo's face was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning and he smiled widely at his brother.

"I'm telling you Raph, these Dragons just have no idea."

"I'm warning you Mikey," Raphael growled. He was circling his last opponent, a skinny man with a surprisingly powerful right hook. He spat a mouth-full of blood onto the floor from their last exchange of blows. "One more word."

"But Raph, you know I—"

Raphael had grown up with Michelangelo's annoying voice and had learnt to tune him out. Mostly. But the man he was facing had no history. He watched as the man's eyes narrowed and for the briefest second, they flickered away from the fight to fixate on his younger brother. Raphael lunged and the next moment, the man slumped unconscious to the floor.

Raphael turned, intent on finding another victim. All around him, unconscious bodies lay sprawled where they had fallen but that only seemed to make the ones left standing fight harder. Donatello staff blurred to his left and Michelangelo had taken off after a runner. He begrudgingly searched for his last brother.

He spotted Leonardo fighting another sword wielder amongst the scaffolding above them. Raphael narrowed his eyes and watched him for a second. His brother held only one sword while his opponent fought with two, yet he was holding his own easily.

Show off.

He was about to turn away when lightning flashed across the East River, illuminating the scene before him. And his heart stopped. The intensity of the wind was making the scaffolding swing, and Raphael could see the strain where it was attached to the bridge. And with a loud crack, it broke loose.

"Leo!"

The whole structure shuddered and both Leonardo and the Foot Ninja lost their footing as it came down around them.

"LEO!"

The Foot Ninja disappeared over the edge but Leonardo pushed off and threw himself towards solid ground. If Raphael could just get there in time, Leonardo would make it…

xxx

Raphael was pulled from his memory as he tripped on something in the darkness. Before he could react, his chin slammed into the concrete floor for the second time that evening. He lay on the ground, stunned, for several moments, slowly blinking away the bright lights in his vision before rolling over.

"Some ninja," he muttered to the dark sky. Clenching his fists, he slammed them into the ground beside him.

This wasn't the first time he'd become lost in a memory of that night. It never happened in dangerous situations, like when he was fighting. It was in quiet moments, such as when he was watching television, while eating breakfast with his family, or sitting on the couch at April's.

April…

It had been weeks since he'd seen her. She'd popped into the lair once or twice but he'd always been out or sleeping. He sighed and slowly got to his feet. Time for a home visit.

Twenty minutes later, Raphael scanned his surroundings before lightly knocking on April's window. The curtain was drawn but he could see the flicker of the television. She was home but was she awake? He was about to knock again when the window slid open.

"Don, I was just about to call—Raphael?"

"Hey Ape."

Her surprise morphed into happiness and he felt a tinge of guilt. How long had it been since his last visit? Definitely since…

"Feel like a visitor?"

"You know you're always welcome," she said, a wide smile on her face. She eagerly stood back from the window to let him in.

Inside, he glanced around her apartment. It was uncharacteristically clean. And bare, as if someone had removed a lot of furniture in a short amount of time.

"Want something to drink?" April called from the kitchen. "I've got beer? And leftover Chinese?"

"Sure."

He took a seat on her couch and followed her with his eyes as she busied herself around the kitchen.

"How's studies?"

He heard the sigh from the kitchen.

"Hard. I can't believe I thought going back would be easy. Donatello's been helping me but my heart just isn't in it." She came back and placed a few boxes in front of him before handing him a fork. "I was studying when you knocked."

"I wouldn't have come if I'd known."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm glad you did. I was looking for an excuse to stop."

She flashed him a smile and then pulled a box towards her.

"How are you?" she asked.

Raphael shrugged.

"Fine."

April tilted her head and Raphael wilted under her gaze. He'd never been particularly close to April. He'd enjoyed her company but Casey had been his friend. That had all changed after Leonardo disappeared. He'd slowly pushed everyone away with his quest to find his brother. At first Casey had been supportive, but after months passed and there was no news, Raphael couldn't blame him for losing hope. Or getting tired of Raphael's obsession.

Just like my brothers, Raphael thought bitterly.

April had never given up. She was the only one he could talk to without feeling patronised. And after his last talk to Master Splinter, she was the only other person who believed Leonardo was still alive.

He looked away.

"Master Splinter is giving up."

April sighed. She pushed her take-away box away and placed her hand on his.

"I'm sorry," she said, gently squeezing his arm.

That's what he liked about April. She knew what to say, but didn't go overboard, and she wouldn't be hurt when he pulled his arm back.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered.

It didn't matter, he told himself. Master Splinter was not out searching every night. His father had just been someone to talk to. Someone to lean on. He still had April.

He glanced up at her.

"How are you?" he asked.

April shrugged.

"I'm good."

It was his turn to tilt his head, and she grimaced.

"Okay, okay," she muttered. "It's been a bit of a struggle. Between the pressures of study, the shop not doing so well, and then I imagine you heard about Casey?"

He nodded so she didn't have to say anymore. Michelangelo had said Casey moved out three weeks ago. Donatello said April kicked him out. For a family of three mutant turtles and a rat, gossip flew thick and fast. He knew they'd been having trouble for a while, but he hadn't known it was so bad.

Unlike April, he wasn't good at offering advice or comfort. He could only say what was on his mind.

"He's always been a bonehead," he muttered. He didn't look up as April disappeared into the kitchen. He heard her blow her nose and when she came back, he tried not to notice the slight redness in her eyes.

"I don't know what happened," she said, picking up a box of take-out and pushing the contents around. "One moment everything was going well and then the next, we were only fighting." She glanced over at her phone. "I haven't heard anything since he left for the farm. I haven't contacted him either."

She turned to Raphael.

"What happened to us?" she said. "All of us. Life used to be so easy."

Raphael pushed his box away. He suddenly didn't feel like eating and he looked at the can of beer in front of him.

"Got anything stronger?" he asked, waving the can in front of her.

She smiled softly at him. "I'll see what's in the cupboard."

Raphael was happy Casey had forgotten the half-finished bottle of whiskey. It was cheap alcohol that burnt on the way down, but it was strong. It wasn't long before he was thoroughly drunk. They passed the rest of the evening watching late night television and playing the few board games April had lying around. When he was too drunk to keep his eyes open, April let him crash on her couch. She wished him goodnight and then stumbled to her bed.

He lay on the couch staring at the ceiling as the room spun around him. He shouldn't have drunk so much. Splinter would be furious when he didn't come home the next day, or that morning?, but he didn't care. He needed to get out of the lair. He needed to get away from his family. He needed to drink himself into a dreamless sleep. Anything to dodge the memories. Anything to kill the dead feeling inside.

April had asked: "What happened to us?" It was a rhetorical question but it had cut into Raphael. It had all started with Leonardo and the night he disappeared. Before his brother had even disappeared.

Raphael didn't remember what started the fight. They'd fought about so many things over the years that it didn't really matter. But this fight had come to blows in the alley behind April's shop. April had already gone inside and Donatello and Michelangelo hadn't arrived yet. Something had set them off; it'd been building for days. He'd been furious, Leonardo had been just as angry. He remembered crashing into his brother like a giant wave. He could feel it, the rough brush of skin as arms blocked fists, legs blocked kicks. He'd remembered drawing deep from within himself, trying his best to hurt his brother.

Leonardo was faster but Raphael had always been stronger and once he had hold of his brother, he wasn't going to let go. Even now on April's couch, he could feel his fingers latch onto his brother as they grappled, and then he'd thrown him roughly to the ground. Leonardo had cried out as he landed heavily on his right arm but instead of helping him up, Raphael had stood over him. He didn't want to remember the words he'd screamed, but he remembered how Leonardo hadn't met his eyes and just sat, cradling his arm.

This had infuriated Raphael more, and he might have rushed him again if Donatello and Michelangelo hadn't suddenly appeared. The older brothers pretended nothing had happened, and the younger brothers pretended the air couldn't have been cut with a knife.

Not long after, they'd spotted the robbery and soon, they were on the bridge and Raphael was watching his brother fall into the East River. The Purple Dragon's body had washed up three days later. Leonardo had been missing ever since.

No one knew what had happened in the alleyway. He'd never told anyone they'd fought. In the hours before Leonardo had disappeared, he'd hated his brother with a passion he could not explain or understand. He'd wished pain on his brother. He'd wished for his brother's death. And he'd told him. Screamed it at him. Screamed like he had always done when he wanted to hurt Leonardo; using words that he knew cut deeper than any weapons edge. He'd seen his brothers face, had taken pleasure in his brother's pain. Revelled in it. And then his brother was gone.

And Raphael had suffered every day since.

"Where are you, Leo?" he whispered into the empty room. "Where are you that I can't find you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: Thank you again for the reviews, it certainly gets me excited to post the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy what this chapter reveals.

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**Memories surface, questions are asked and in Manhattan, Raphael remembers past attempts.**

Cody closed his eyes and rested his head on the front door, counting his aunts steps in the gravel. He hadn't meant to shove her out the house, but these twice weekly afternoon teas and dinner on the weekend were a nightmare. He'd hoped after his grandmother died she might stop coming around so often, but now she was intent on 'checking up on him'. How sitting at the kitchen table detailing neighbourhood gossip and force-feeding him homemade biscuits and cakes was 'checking up on him', he did not know.

He looked up and caught his reflection in the entrance halls' mirror. A haggard face looked back at him.

xxx

"This house is far too big for one person," she said, waving her hands around. His aunt could talk underwater so it wasn't necessary Cody answer. He often fell into a stupor when she talked and he was currently staring at his aunt's hands as they fluttered in front of him. Her fingers were coated in rings with large colourful stones, and he wondered if she took them off when she cooked? Maybe one day he'd break a tooth on one that had fallen into a cake…

"What you really need is someone to move in with you, to keep you company."

That wrenched him out of his stupor, and he looked up into his aunt's expectant face. She'd been hinting about moving in for weeks but this was the closest she'd come to voicing it. The thought made him shudder. Yes, the house he inherited from his grandmother had multiple bedrooms and he only used one. Yes, he could shut off whole areas of the house and it would make no difference to the small space he utilised. But this house had secrets.

He could feel his heart racing and his hands starting to jerk. He knew a panic attack when it was coming and there was a large one steamrolling towards him. He jumped to his feet.

"It's getting late; I don't want to keep you all day." His hands fumbled as he started packing the numerous cakes and biscuits back into the containers she'd brought with her. "I'm sure you still want to call on Mr. and Mrs. Davidson, and Reverend Wilson, and its getting cold so it would be better if you were home before dark to heat the house as the news said it was going to be cold with a chance of more snow but—"

He rambled when he was nervous. Or anxious. Or panicked. Or in an unfamiliar situation. Or in a familiar situation, but not as he liked it. Or for multitude of reasons. The nervousness had followed him all his life. It was the reason he'd had such a hard time at school. At college. At work. His saving grace was an academic brilliance that gave him special privileges. Want to study at home? Sure! Want to work from home? Sure! He'd moulded his life around his anxieties. It was part of him.

Two hands clasped his and he jerked back in fright. He looked up again into his aunt's face but this time, he saw pity.

"My dear boy," she murmured. She cupped his face before quietly packing the rest of the food. When she was done, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I'll be by on Tuesday to check on you."

And then thankfully, she left.

xxx

Cody sighed with relief when he heard the car door shut, and his aunt slowly pull away from the curb.

Freedom.

He checked the door was locked before taking the stairs two at a time. A two-story colonial-style house, he was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase. From the landing, he went into one of the rooms and opened the walk-in-robe. A few years before, he'd had a collapsible attic ladder installed. His grandmother had called herself a collector but everyone in the family called her a hoarder. He hoped moving some of the clutter into the attic would relieve pressure on the house. It hadn't. In fact, it backfired as she'd just had an excuse to buy more. However, this hidden entrance now served a better purpose. Unless you knew about it, you'd never find it and that was for the best.

He picked up a long rod and tapped the roof twice before pulling the ladder down. He clambered up, squinting in the late afternoon darkness. When his eyes adjusted, he picked his way past the large Christmas tree he hadn't seen put up since his youth, and towers of boxes and clutter that had been thrown in the attic to rot. He had tried years before to order the chaos and he could see his messy writing on some of the boxes. Stationary. Books. More Books. Cooking Books. Junk. He'd stopped when he'd hit a wall of his deceased father's childhood projects and had never taken it up again. When his guest moved in, he'd just cleared a path.

"You can turn the light on, you know," he said, finally coming out into a small clearing at the back. His guest stood with his back to him, staring out the only light source—a little window he could only reach by standing on his tiptoes.

"Do your neighbours leave their attic light on during the day?"

Cody shrugged. He didn't care what the neighbours thought. Let them wonder.

"It doesn't seem fair you living in the dark."

His friend said nothing but kept staring out the window. Cody watched him closely. It no longer surprised him, coming up the ladder to find a large, standing, talking turtle. Yet, he still sometimes wondered if he was dreaming, or if his self-imposed exile in this house, on this island, was starting to affect him.

He shook his head. Ryan was many things, but he was definitely real. It had been nearly three years since he found the turtle half-dead on the beach. At first he thought he'd found a monsters corpse, but then Ryan had taken a shaky breath and looked at him before losing consciousness. Cody had seen intelligence in those eyes and it had scared him more than he'd ever admit.

His eyes flickered around his friend's 'bedroom'. They'd dragged one of the guest beds up so he was at least comfortable. Jammed next to it was a chest of drawers in which Ryan kept his clothes. There was a small television set with a gaming system plugged in, and two camp chairs. Near the attic window was a small desk and beside that, a large corkboard covered in paper. Lists of dates. Places. Newspaper clippings. Maps of Long Island. Manhattan. Small, neat handwritten notes covered most of them. There was a recent addition of a night shot of Coney Island. He drew closer and saw "Robot?" written in the picture margins.

"Any ideas?"

"No."

He asked the same question every time he came up into the attic and usually got the same reply. A piece of paper had fallen from the board and Cody knelt to pick it up. The side facing him was blank but when he turned it over, he read the large, bold letters written across it.

Who am I?

Ryan didn't know. He knew things, like the sky was blue and the sea salty. He knew it was a matter of life and death he stayed hidden, but had no memory of his life before Cody found him. They didn't know how he came to be in the water. They didn't even know if Ryan was his name. It sounded similar to something Ryan had occasionally muttered while drifting in and out of consciousness after Cody dragged him up to the house. When he finally woke, he didn't know who he was or where he had come from, and Ryan had been searching ever since.

Cody pinned the paper back on the corkboard and then joined his friend at the window. It took a few blinks for his eyes to adjust, and he saw what had Ryan's attention. Mrs. Renetti's children were playing in the backyard. The twins were having a snowball fight while their smallest sibling built a snowfamily. Even from the attic, they heard the scream of rage as a stray snowball took the nose off the snowfamilies mother, and then the older two were dashing back into the house, their sibling chasing after them with a stick.

Cody chuckled.

"That one's got a temper."

Ryan nodded and with the children gone, he turned away from the window and headed to the bed.

"I always feel like they're missing one," he said, sitting down and folding his legs. Cody was always struck by how silently his friend could walk over the ancient floorboards. He felt like a lumbering buffalo whenever he was around Ryan. He tried his best not to make the roof shudder as he walked across to a chair.

"You need to walk on the balls of your feet," Ryan said. "You're walking on your heels. Try again."

Cody grimaced.

"You make that sound easy."

But he obliged, walking back to the attic window and then he tried to walk as softly as he could to the chair, ignoring every creak and groan of the house as he padded across. He looked at Ryan who had the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Better."

Cody sunk into the chair with a sigh. It was an old camping chair he'd dug out of the garage. It had probably been purchased in the sixties, patched every few years since, and was more comfortable than everything else in the house. He cast a glance at his friend.

"You said something about one of the kids missing?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

"I dunno. I know there are only three kids but I just always seem to be looking for a fourth."

Some gossip from years before, courtesy of his aunt no doubt, surfaced in Cody's mind.

"I don't think they meant to have a third child, so there definitely wasn't going to be a fourth."

Ryan shrugged and changed the topic.

"How's your aunt?"

Cody groaned.

"She hinted at moving in, again." He placed his head in his hands. "She's not going to let up. I don't know what to do."

Ryan smiled.

"Maybe you should tell her the truth? I'm sure she won't mind a giant turtle in the attic."

Cody laughed.

"Do you remember when that magazine published the article about you?"

He cast his memory back two years. There was a national park a few miles from his house and sometimes when Ryan was having trouble being cooped up in the attic, Cody would drive him there in the dead of the night so he could go for a run. Unfortunately, Ryan had gotten lost one evening and hadn't found his way back to the van before the sun rose. An early morning hiker had seen him and thinking he'd discovered a monster, sold his story to a trashy magazine that ran it as a front page story. At the time, they'd been terrified Ryan would be found. People started visiting the park, trying their luck in the search. A few monster hunters came asking questions but Cody, like many people, shut the door on them. Eventually the hype had died down and nothing more had come of it. They now thought it was rather funny and Ryan had even pinned the article on his corkboard as a memento.

"What did they call you, the Long Island Monster?" Cody laughed. "She wouldn't care if you had three heads as long as you listened to her prattle on for hours. She's drives me nuts."

Ryan was silent for a moment. When he did speak, his voice was quiet.

"…must be nice having family to annoy you."

Cody cringed. He sometimes forgot Ryan had no one. Hearing someone whinge about family problems when you didn't remember if you had one, or where they were, would be upsetting. His mind cast back to one night when Ryan turned to him and in a hollow voice asked a simple question: "Why haven't they come to find me?"

Looking at Ryan's crestfallen face, Cody wanted to kick himself. He hadn't meant to upset his friend. Quickly, he tossed the nearest game controller to Ryan and grabbed one for himself.

"Ready to have your butt kicked at Donkey Kong?"

xxx

Saturday afternoon and Raphael was elbow-deep in research. Spread out around him were ring-binder files bursting with maps and newspaper clippings. His laptop was on his right and a pile of notebooks were stacked to his left.

After Leo had first gone missing, his family spent days, weeks, months, searching the city. Searching the river. They broke into warehouses, apartments, research labs, and business; anywhere they thought their brother might be. They searched and they searched but after a year, his family gave up.

That didn't stop Raphael. He kept going. He was driven mad by the need to find his brother. Raw energy could only keep him going so long and without Donatello keeping track, he was soon forgetting where he had looked and what he had found. He realised he had to be meticulous. He had to make a plan.

He had to act like his older brother.

It didn't come naturally to him, but he started small. He researched an area before heading out. He started keeping logs of where he'd searched and what he found. Then he lost his first laptop in a coffee accident, and he learnt how to keep backups of his data. It became an obsession for him. He had multiple hard drives and backups; he'd learnt the hard way when his first laptop had fried. It was like losing Leonardo all over again and it had taken months, if not a year, to replace the lost data. Sometimes, he woke drenched in sweat thinking about what would happen if he lost it all again.

In the beginning, he'd kept a handwritten account of his movement. It had started out as a log but it had quickly branched into a journal; somewhere for him to vent at his family and their lack of faith. At his own failings. They filled a bookcase in his room and sometimes he reread them to see if he'd missed a clue. Today, almost for leisure, he was reading over the first trip they'd made out to the farm after Leonardo had gone missing and most of the family had accepted he was dead.

xxx Flashback xxx

Raphael folded his arms and looked disapprovingly at the large number of bags April had brought back from the store. There was no way they would ever be able to pay April back for her kindness, Casey too. Their friends never asked for any financial reimbursement and the brothers always tried to pay their share, but Raphael knew it never balanced out. Also…

Raphael sighed.

That many groceries meant they weren't heading back to New York any time soon.

April spotted him standing on the porch.

"There's another bag in the back," she said, nodding over her shoulder towards the boot. "Could you grab it?"

"More?"

"Last one." A smile flickered across her face. "Mikey wanted something to read but there wasn't much of a selection."

Raphael rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to do that."

"Nonsense, we're crashing your family vacation." She bumped the car door shut with her hip. "Least I could do."

Family vacation was a long stretch. Tension had been running high in the lair and their usual fall back when something went wrong was to retreat to the farmhouse. And that was where Raphael had been dragged, kicking and swearing the entire way. Donatello and Michelangelo might have given up finding their brother alive but Raphael hadn't. Time spent at the farmhouse was time taken from his search. Raphael speculated his family hoped a brief respite from the city might calm him, but it only made it worse.

He watched April walk back into the house before glancing through the driver side window. Disappointment ate at him when he saw the keys weren't in the ignition.

"You wouldn't have left anyway," he muttered to himself.

Even if the keys weren't there, he wasn't helpless. He was a ninja; it wasn't like his family could hide the keys from him forever. If he really tried, he could find them and be driving back to New York in a rather short amount a time. Yet, he'd be lying if he didn't admit it was only at the farmhouse he had been able to sleep soundly since…

He lent against the car and cast his eyes towards the forest. It had always been Leonardo's favourite place to run, the forest, and another reason to come up here was to place a small plaque on a spot designated as his brother's 'grave'.

Is it a grave if you have nothing to bury? he wondered, not for the first time. Raphael clenched his fists and swallowed a howl of anger. If the Purple Dragons, the filth of the streets, had been given answers to what happened to their fighter who fell from the bridge, why hadn't his family? They'd found no trace of their brother, their son, their friend. They had nothing to bury.

The front door opened and Raphael glanced over his shoulder. Donatello stared at him for a moment, before turning and walking off towards the plaque. Raphael narrowed his eyes.

He knew this – the vacation, the burial – had been Donatello's idea. He'd been the first to give up and Raphael would never forgive him for that.

Muttering darkly, he walked towards the back of the car, grabbed the bag, and slammed the boot shut harder than needed. He then stalked towards the house. The bag was heavier than he expected, and he looked inside to see April had wasted her money on a large selection of trashy magazines. His anger now turned towards his little brother.

Raphael found him lying on the couch watching television. Without waiting for Michelangelo to sit up, he dropped the heavy bag on his lap.

"Hey! What—"

"Get off your ass and help April with the groceries," he snapped in Japanese. "And don't make April waste her money on junk again. Find some other way to amuse yourself."

Michelangelo's eyes flickered from Raphael to the kitchen and back. They could both hear April had stopped putting the groceries away, probably noticing the change in language. The brothers rarely spoke to each other in Japanese, especially out of courtesy to April and Casey who couldn't understand anything they were saying. They never used it unless they had to talk privately and even then, only if there was a family dispute.

"I didn't make her; April asked if I wanted anything." Michelangelo replied hesitantly. His Japanese was rusty but he also sounded nervous to be using it. As if the language change made him more aware of how serious Raphael was.

April appeared from the kitchen.

"Everything okay?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Raphael nodded and yanked his brother roughly from the couch.

"Mikey was just about to come help," he said, swapping to English. He pushed his little brother towards the kitchen.

"No, it's okay. I don't need any help—"

"I'm sure you can find something."

"What's the big idea Raph," Michelangelo said, putting his foot down and turning on his brother. "If you want to help so much, why don't you?"

"I'm not freeloading off our friends—"

"I told you she ask—"

"Guys," April said, quickly coming to stand between them, her hands held up trying to pacify the situation. "Guys, come on. Relax." She grabbed Raphael's arm as he went to step past her. He looked up and she smiled gently. "I like trashy magazines as much as Mikey. We were going to do the puzzles together. You could join us?"

Raphael pulled his arm away like he'd been stung. Instead of searching New York for his brother, he was going to solve crossword puzzles in New Hampshire? He didn't think so.

"I'm going for a run," he said. He threw one last dirty look at his younger brother and headed for the door.

The silence of the forest welcomed him as he pounded his way through. At least running was something he could keep up with at the farm. He didn't want to lose his stamina. The longer he could run, the longer he could search. The sun was dipping behind the trees by the time he dragged his exhausted body back up onto the porch.

Michelangelo was sitting on the porch swing, an unreadable look on his face. Raphael had long forgotten their fight but now it came back to him.

"What?" he snapped.

His brother looked at him and then slowly, his fingers shaking, raised a magazine he was holding in his hands. It must have been one of the trashy magazines April bought him but before Raphael could snap again at him, he caught sight of the image on the front. Raphael felt his heart pounding in his chest. He stumbled forward and snatched the magazine from his brother's hand.

It was the front cover with "Long Island Monster" written in bold font. But that wasn't what caught Raphael's eye, rather the crudely drawn image filling most of the page. It was a creature that stood on two legs like a human, but that was where the similarities stopped. The caption it was an artists rendition as the witness was not carrying a camera, but there was no mistake. The Long Island Monster had a shell.

xxx

Raphael slammed his fist on the table.

"Why are we wasting our time debatin'. It has to be him."

He stood at one end of the table. Michelangelo and Casey sat on one of the longer sides. Master Splinter sat quietly on the other with his eyes closed. Donatello and April sat at the other end with their laptops open, scouring the web for more information.

Donatello looked up.

"You don't know that. We don't know anything except—"

"How many walking turtles do you think are in New York? He has a shell!"

"The creature also has a tree growing out of the shell, horns, and five fingers and toes." Donatello sniffed. "And it's not exactly a reputable magazine."

Donatello wasn't wrong. Compared to some of the other articles in the magazine, a walking, talking, somewhat turtle-looking monster living in a national park on Long Island was believable. But Raphael wasn't going to give up.

"It's just an artist drawing. They might have got it wrong or, or the artist embellished a little. Or maybe Leo's been living rough and was dirty. Or maybe the person who saw him was drunk."

Casey sniggered and Raphael glared at him, before turning back to his brother. Donatello was watching him over the laptop with a frown.

"You shouldn't get your hopes up."

Raphael wanted to howl in frustration.

"What's your problem? This is proof! He's alive!"

Donatello narrowed his eyes.

"This isn't proof of anything. All we know is someone thinks they saw something in Long Island, and that magazine was dumb enough to print it."

Raphael saw red and he stepped towards his brother.

"Enough!" Master Splinter snapped.

He indicated for Raphael to take a seat.

"I'll stand."

"Very well," Splinter said, his tail thrashing back and forth. "But you will say nothing until I am done."

He glared at his son and then turned to the table.

"We should not get our hopes up—he raised his hand as Raphael snarled—but we need to investigate this rumour. We need to learn all that we can."

"There's little online," Donatello said. "There's nothing in the local news and hardly anyone has commented on the article."

Splinter nodded.

"Very well. We shall go ourselves and see what we can find."

Splinter turned to Raphael and he felt his heart soar.

"It is time we return to New York."

xxx Present Day xxx

The Long Island Monster had been a dead end. A little forgotten corner of Long Island had a national park, and a man claimed he'd seen a monster one morning. The family had spent days and nights searching the area, slogging through the rain and the mud, but turned up no trace of Leonardo. April had even approached several of the nearby houses. A few people spoke to her and said the man was lying, but the majority just slammed the door in her face. It wasn't the strangest lead they had chased but eventually, they had given up.

Raphael hadn't been popular in the lair having made them return to the city for a wild goose chase. He hadn't cared. He filled the Long Island Monster away as a false lead and just carried on his search as if the trip to the farm house—the 'burial'—hadn't happened.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Ghost of the past come back to haunt the living on Halloween.**

Ryan was dreaming. He often tried to write down his dreams in case it triggered a memory, but he would have struggled with this one. He didn't remember places or faces, he remembered flashes of colour. An emotion of feeling safe. Of familiarity. He was comfortable with someone. With them? Them? Was them one or more? He felt like he was digging through mud for something he had lost long ago, but somewhere in his brain registered a noise and he felt the memory slipping away.

Ryan's eyes snapped open as Cody banged on the attic door. He sat up and looked around. Sunlight was still filtering in through the small window in the attic roof. With a groan, he realised he'd fallen asleep on the book he had been reading and it was digging into his side. He placed it on the bedside table as Cody appeared in his den.

"Did I wake you?"

Ryan shrugged.

"Dozing."

Cody hovered on the edge of the space until Ryan flicked his arm towards a chair. He liked that about Cody. This was Cody's house, Cody's attic, yet he was polite and always waited until Ryan invited him into his space.

"How's your aunt—?"

Cody groaned and held up his hands. Ryan smiled. This was the third time this week Cody's aunt had visited. She'd surprised them both and Ryan had barely made it upstairs and into the attic before she'd let herself in with a spare key. He didn't often wander the house downstairs and this was a good reason not to.

"This has to stop," Cody muttered. "She can't keep coming over like this."

Ryan let Cody vent for a few minutes. Cody always said he'd stand up to his aunt. That he wouldn't let her push him around. That he'd put his foot down.

He never did.

Cody was too calm and passive. Polite to a fault. He would be the person helping everyone into the lifeboats of a sinking ship and then he'd apologise for holding everyone up.

Not for the first time, Ryan thanked the stars Cody had found him. He couldn't imagine many people letting him live for free in their house, even if they had a well-paying job and their grandmother had left them a sizeable inheritance. Ryan had found money usually brought the worst out in people—

Ryan shook his head. Where had that thought come from? He had no frame of reference. He knew no one but Cody, so how would he know money brought out the worse in people?

He scrambled from his bed. He had to shift a few items on his desk before he found some paper. Ryan quickly wrote the thought down and stuck it to the board where "Money brings the worst out in people?" stood out amongst other things he'd remembered. Or thought he remembered?

He turned back to Cody and said sheepishly, "Sorry, just had a thought and had to write it down."

Cody smiled.

"I was done ranting anyway."

Ryan slowly walked back to his bed and sat down, trying to follow the thought of money back into his brain. Nothing.

Cody cleared his throat and pointed to the book on Ryan's nightstand.

"What are you reading?"

"The Art of War."

Cody tilted his head.

"Haven't you read that one before?"

Ryan shrugged. It was his third reading of the dog-eared book. He couldn't explain it but he was drawn to the book. It felt comfortable in his hands and reading it felt like he was meeting an old friend.

"I like it," he said simply.

The two lapsed into silence. Up in the attic, they could hear the odd car drive past and then listened as the door to a nearby house slammed shut and children could be heard running out onto the street with a basketball.

Ryan lay back and stared at the ceiling.

"I wish I could go outside," he said, sullen. He didn't tell Cody how he sometimes watched the neighbourhood, watching children playing in the backyards in the sun, people walking the streets. He wished, not for the first time, he had been more careful in the national park. That he hadn't got lost. That he hadn't been seen.

"We could go back to the national park tonight?" Cody said, seeming to voice his thoughts. "We'll be careful."

Something in Ryan's stomach twisted at the thought. That's what they'd said the first time. They'd be careful but Ryan hadn't been able to help himself. It was the first time he'd been able to run for so long, he'd just run and run and run until he'd collapsed. Only then did he realise he was lost. And then, after stumbling in the dark for hours, the sun rose and he'd been spotted. He'd turned and fled from the man and with the light guiding him, he'd finally found his way back to a frantic Cody.

Ryan wouldn't risk it again. One mention in a trashy magazine was nothing, but what if someone else saw him? Suddenly, the Long Island Monster might look a little more believable. He had to contend with walking around the house in the daytime with the blinds drawn and occasionally, on moonless and cloudy nights, sneaking out for a while into the darkness.

"No," he said softly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You can't stay up here for ever," Cody said, and then he backtracked. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want, I'm not saying you need to leave, I like having company and I wasn't saying—"

Ryan could hear the anxiety in Cody's voice.

"Don't worry, I understand what you are saying," he said.

Cody swallowed.

"I was just thinking that, ummm, well, it can't be healthy not going outside? Okay, maybe we go a little further afield. There are a few more parks around—"

Ryan shook his head.

"I don't think anywhere on Long Island is a good idea."

"Hmmm."

Cody was drilling his fingers on his leg and Ryan was suddenly struck with a memory of … of …

And it was gone.

Before he realised what he was doing, Ryan had picked up the book on his bedside table and thrown it at the nearest wall with a loud shout. Cody jumped and the book broke apart on the wall, landing with a loud THUMP on the floor.

"Damn," Ryan muttered. His heart was racing and he looked at Cody who had wide eyes. "I'm, I'm sorry."

He slowly got up and made his way to the book. His moment of anger had split the book into two even halves and he held them in his hands. With a bit of tape, he could put the book back together, but a bit of tape was not enough for him to reconcile his forgotten past with his present.

He turned and looked at his friend and then back at the book in his hand. With a sigh, he went and slumped onto the bed.

"I'm sorry about the book."

"Don't, don't worry about it."

Cody smiled hesitantly but Ryan could see his hands were starting to jitter. "I don't think anyone's read it since Uncle Albert and I don't think he really read it, I'm not even sure he could read well, I imagine he picked it up at a second hand store or took it from someone—I'm rambling, I'm sorry."

Cody took several deep breaths and Ryan waited until he had calmed down.

"You're right; I need to get out of this attic," Ryan said, "but anywhere on Long Island is a bad idea; we can't have a repeat of the park. I need to go somewhere I won't be noticed…"

He trailed off. It was an impossible situation. Going outside on Long Island was a bad idea but how was he going to go outside at all? He couldn't walk around without being seen. He wasn't human.

To break the silence, Cody switched the television on. The news was playing but Ryan wasn't watching, too wrapped up in his thoughts. It wasn't until the presenter referenced Halloween the next week that Ryan sat up straighter. It was like a light had turned on and suddenly, he had an idea.

"Cody," he said, his mouth dry and his mind racing. "We should go to the Halloween parade in New York."

xxx

Ryan laughed. Before him walked a zombie vampire, behind him was a werewolf, to his left a ghost and to his right, a character from some movie Cody had spent ten minutes detailing the plot. He hadn't been listening; he'd been enjoying the feeling of wind on his face.

He turned to Cody and smiled.

"I fit right in."

This wasn't the first time the pair had been to New York. They'd made the long journey a few times in the early days but given Cody was a nervous driver and Ryan didn't know where to start his search, they'd eventually given up. There was just too much ground to cover. Anyway, Ryan felt no bigger pull to New York then he did to Long Island. Why take the risk?

The initial plan had been to cover as much ground as possible to see if anything sparked a memory, but given how many people were around, that had soon disappeared in favour of enjoying the sights and the atmosphere of Halloween.

They'd eaten street food. They'd been complemented on their costumes—Cody was a sci-fi character Ryan had never heard of and people just assumed Ryan's pants and cape combination was from an obscure anime. They were standing beneath a streetlight watching a group of zombie's go past when something caught Ryan's eye. A strange rush swept over him and he grabbed Cody's arm.

"Come on."

He took off over the road, avoided a ghoul and ducked into a nearby alleyway.

"Where are we going?" Cody shouted behind but Ryan didn't slow. There was something pulling him.

Sometimes this happened. Something would be on television or he'd wake from a dream that felt a little too real. It was a feeling, a sense. Usually it disappeared after a moment.

This time, it was leading him up a fire escape and he soon left Cody puffing behind him.

Climbing over the side was like diving into a deep, clear pool. He felt…

At home?

And then as suddenly as it appeared, the feeling faded.

"No, no, no."

Ryan raced around the rooftop, as if he could pick up the memory from where it had fallen on the ground. But it was gone and he was empty again. With a shriek of frustration, he lashed out, his fist colliding with the nearest wall.

"Ryan?"

He wheeled to face his friend.

"It was here," he said. He wheeled his arms around at the space. "It was here. I felt something. I can't explain it but I felt, I felt…" he trailed off.

Cody hopped onto the rooftop.

"I felt like I was meant to be here," Ryan said, his voice soft. He looked up at his friend. "But now, I feel nothing."

Cody shifted uncomfortably for a moment. His eyes moved from Ryan, to his fist, to the wall, and then back to his friend. He cleared his throat twice but said nothing.

Ryan turned away in anger. He wanted to shout, to scream, but the only one there was Cody and he didn't deserve to hear it. Cody had booked a private car to carry them all the way to New York from Long Island. Cody had let him live in his attic for years without once asking for any payment. It wasn't Cody's fault he couldn't remember anything.

"I'm sorry, Cody." He turned to look at his friend. "I just had this feeling a-and I hoped I'd find something."

Cody smiled weakly.

"You did." He raised his hand and pointed. "Look."

Ryan turned and found himself staring at an unhindered view of the New York skyline. The lights twinkled in front of him and then, fireworks exploded around them. He was struck by the beauty of the scene. It felt like he'd stumbled onto a secret tucked deep into New York.

He laughed quietly.

"I suppose I did."

The two friends watched the city for a few moments before Ryan suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was as if something, a sixth sense, was warning him to run. He'd had a similar feeling only a few times before; at the national park the day he was spotted and whenever Cody's aunt appeared unannounced. He glanced at Cody but he was only admiring the skyline.

A foot scuffed on the rooftop behind them. Ryan spun.

A group of people were coming up behind them. He gulped when he realised they all brandished a different type of weapon. One held a metal crow bar over his shoulder and another rested a nailed wooden bat in his hands. They were all smirking and Ryan grabbed Cody.

"What—"

Cody let out a loud squeak and several gang members laughed. Ryan's mind was racing. He was measuring his height against the gang, though he didn't know why, but they all towered above him. He tried to stand up tall and make himself look bigger than he was. He had to protect his friend.

The group came to a stop and one stepped forward. He was the tallest. Tattoos covered his muscular arms and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once. He flashed a smile and showed he was missing several teeth.

"Look what we have here, one of the freaks, and we didn't even have to go trick-o-treating," he said, talking more to the gang then Cody and Ryan. He then fixed his eyes on them. "You shouldn't be on our turf, freak."

Ryan froze. Freak? It almost felt like this man knew something about him. As if he knew he wasn't wearing a costume.

Not possible, Ryan thought. He can't know. He's just a thug.

He could feel Cody shaking beside him and he grabbed his friends arm. It was time to leave.

"We don't have any money," Ryan said. For how fast his mind was racing, his voice was calm and steady. "I'm sorry, we'll go." He started pulling Cody back towards the fire escape.

The leader took another step forward, slapping his bat into the palm of his hand.

"I don't think so," he said. He took another step forward. "No one gets away from the Purple Dragons." And with a roar, he lunged.

Time slowed. It was like Ryan was standing beside his body as someone controlled him. He watched as he pushed Cody towards the fire escape with one arm and then raised the other to block the strike aimed at his head. But he wasn't done. He was moving, moving to the left to kick the man hard in the chest and send him backwards into the others. He turned and shouted at Cody to run and then he took off in the other direction, hoping to draw them away.

"After him!"

He glanced over his shoulder and watched as the group ignored Cody and took off after him.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

The thought thundered around his head and he leapt from that rooftop to the next. Yet, as he ran, he felt that feeling engulf him. He felt like a path was being laid out in front of him and the further he ran, the more and more he felt certain of…

Certain of something.

"I'm coming!" he shouted into the night. His feet pounded the pavement and he took off. He could hear the group, the Purple Dragons?, calling behind him yet it meant nothing to the path that was being laid before him. He darted over rooftops and soared over alleyways as if he was built for this kind of flight. He got to the edge of one building and leapt from the edge, and a part of his mind registered that there was no way he would make the other side. Yet, his body reacted. He twisted and snagged himself on one of the washing lines hanging between the buildings and used it slow his descent. On reaching the ground, he let out a loud laugh.

He was a master of his environment and his body, yet not a master of his memory. At the moment, he could live with that.

Ryan heard shouts from the men on the rooftop and he took off. This area of town was less populated and he seemed to melt into the shadows as he took off down the alleyways. It still felt like his mind was leading him somewhere and if he had hair, he would have felt it stand on the back of his neck. He was getting close to something, he could feel it.

Eventually, Ryan stopped beside a large dumpster. The voices were long gone. All he could hear was his breathing in the shadows. He searched his feelings for anything but realised the feeling he'd been following had disappeared.

"No, no, dammit," he muttered. He stepped out from behind the dumpster and looked around. Nothing looked familiar. He had followed his hunch to where? Here? A trash strewn alleyway like any other alleyway in New York City? Where was here? What made this one special?

The backdoor to a nearby shop crashed opened but he paid it no attention. No humans had bothered him all night, now was not going to be any different. Anyway, given the amount of noise this human was making, they were probably drunk. He kept searching his surrounds.

"L-leo?"

Pain exploded in his skull and he cried out. He spun but he couldn't see the woman for all the bright spots flashing in front of his eyes. It was like a thousand bombs were going off in his head, like a giant waving crashing down on him, like he was being ripped in two. He'd never felt anything like this before. Bile built up in his throat and he retched into the alleyway. Then he took a step backwards, stumbled but quickly pulled himself to his feet.

And ran.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**April sees a ghost, Raphael sees a lie, and Ryan sees a possibility.**

Halloween was the one night of the year Raphael could walk above ground without fear. He hated it.

It set his nerves on high alert. Every time he saw someone green walk past, he'd tear after them, sure it was his missing brother. In years past, he'd grabbed many costumed trick-o-treaters and spun them around, only to find a terrified person or at times, a fist headed for his face. It was safer for him to stay away from the festivities.

April and Casey usually threw a Halloween party but after their break-up, it just didn't feel the same. Casey still hadn't returned from the farm—or wherever he was given no one had heard from him—and April had tried to throw a party, but her heart wasn't in it. Raphael had gone to April's to be polite but he hadn't said anything as the stilted conversation roamed the table. He ate what was in front of him and didn't ask for seconds. He refused to get up from his seat when the doorbell rang, and he certainly wasn't about to hand out candy to happy families. Instead, he spent his time counting down the hours until this day—another celebration without his brother—was over.

He sighed. He was getting used to it.

The party ended early, if it had even started, and Raphael and Master Splinter headed towards the lair while Donatello and Mikey went trick-o-treating.

"You do not wish to join your brothers?" Splinter had asked as they descended into the sewers.

Raphael shook his head and his father said no more. Instead, he put a comforting hand on his arm and they walked in silence.

Back at the lair, Raphael had sat in front of the television. A horror movie was on but he wasn't watching and he didn't complain when Splinter started an old movie they'd found for him in a dumpster. They were twenty minutes in when the lair's phone rang.

Raphael and Splinter shared a startled look. The lair number was not listed and it was only a select few that knew it. Most people rang their mobiles. As Splinter reached for the phone, Raphael took out his mobile and his eyes widened. His phone had been on silent and he had several missed calls – all from April.

A solid weight dropped into his stomach. They hadn't heard from Donatello and Michelangelo all night and suddenly, he cursed the choice he'd made not to accompany his brothers. As Splinter answered, he quickly dialled Mikey's number.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," he muttered as the line dialled in his ear.

"Mushi mushi?"

Raphael could hear April's voice on the other line. She was talking in a rush but Raphael only had eyes for his father. Splinter's eyes narrowed, widened and then, he dropped the phone.

Splinter never dropped anything. Ever. Raphael froze when his father slowly turned to him.

"April … April called," he said, as if he didn't believe it himself. He spoke as if the words were foreign to him and he was sounding them all out. "She said she saw your brother."

He looked at Raphael with wide eyes.

"She said she saw Leonardo."

xxx

"I'm telling you. It was him."

Raphael was back at April's apartment, staring out her window. The lights of New York glistened at him, as if they were taunting him.

We saw something you didn't, they seemed to whisper. We know something you don't.

He turned back and eyed the room. April was sitting on the sofa, a cup of late night coffee in her hands. He tried not to notice the slightly glazed look in her eyes, or the empty wine bottle on the coffee table that hadn't been there when they left earlier. Michelangelo and Splinter sat on the couch as Donatello tapped away at his laptop.

"It is not that we do not believe you, April," Master Splinter said. He cast his eyes at his sons before speaking again. "But why would Leonardo come here and not home? And why after all this time?"

"I don't know but I know I saw him. Just for a moment."

"What did he look like?"

April glared at Michelangelo.

"Like a turtle."

Michelangelo winched but held up his hands.

"I meant," he paused for a moment. "Did he look sick? Healthy? Hurt?"

Raphael felt his stomach flip. The eternal question—if Leonardo had survived, was the reason he hadn't come home was he'd been injured? Three years though to get over an injury?

"I, I couldn't tell." She hesitated a moment before she continued. "He was in a dark spot, but it looked like him."

Raphael stiffened. They'd gone from it was him to it looked like him.

There was a snap as Donatello shut his laptop.

"There's nothing on the security footage. Everything was tilted just the wrong way." He shrugged. "Someone was there but it's too grainy to know exactly who it was."

April got to her feet, her body quivering with rage.

"I know what I saw," she said, her eyes flashing. "I didn't need to get a good look to know it was Leo."

Master Splinter sighed loudly and Raphael watched him cast his eye over the bottle of wine on the table. It didn't add any weight to April's argument and he watched as colour spread across her face.

"I wasn't drunk."

It was the wrong sentence for April to slur, but he wasn't the only one who heard it. The room was quiet for a moment and Raphael turned back to the window. This one looked out on the alleyway where April said she'd seen his brother.

Had his brother, who'd been missing for three years, been in the alleyway only a few hours ago? That alleyway? That specific alleyway?

Raphael ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and turned over the question.

Why would Leonardo come here?

There were three manhole covers within a short radius of April's shop and one was in the street behind. The lair was only a short distance away. Why wouldn't he just come home?

Why this specific alleyway, with its ghosts? Its memories. It's secrets.

Raphael shook his head, pushing the thought away.

Or was it as simple as April being drunk and seeing something she wanted to see?

"Why would he run?" Donatello muttered. Raphael turned back from the window to look at his brother. Don looked like he was asking a question but Raphael knew him. It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"Think about it," Donatello continued. "If he found his way back here, why would he run when he saw you?"

April narrowed her eyes and her voice rose higher.

"I told you he looked scared—"

"You said you didn't see his face, but it also doesn't explain—"

Splinter got to his feet and tapped his cane loudly on the ground.

"I think it is time we returned home, my sons." He turned to April and bowed. "Thank you for your hospitality this evening and passing on this information. You have given us much to think about."

April stiffened. It was a thank you fitting a dinner party and not for someone who passed on information of a missing son. She watched as the family all filed past. Raphael was the last one out and she grabbed his arm.

"You believe me? Don't you?"

Raphael tried to ignore the plea in her voice but it still cut him to the bone. It was the same plea he had used on his family when he had tried to get them to keep looking. Keep searching. Keep hoping. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed, but he didn't turn around. He didn't want her to see the disbelief on his face.

xxx

After a week, April stopped calling to ask if they'd found anything. If they had, they would've shouted it from the rooftops. Donatello spent a day half-heartedly scanning police channels around the city but Raphael wasn't surprised when he found nothing. No one let themselves get too hopeful anymore. This wasn't the first time one of them thought they saw their missing brother. It was harder before the trip to the farm. Now, no one wanted to chase a ghost. No one, but Raphael.

Raphael spent a few nights after Halloween watching April's apartment and the surrounding neighbourhood. He sat on a nearby roof where he had a clear view of her shop and just watched and waited. And waited. And waited some more as the same question bounced around his mind—Who was in the alleyway? Was it Leo? And if it was, why now? Why that alleyway?

His head told him it was a drunk. It was Halloween; they'd probably snuck down the alleyway for a piss and ran when they were caught. He couldn't ignore the alcohol around April's apartment or her desire to find Leonardo. Moreover, if it had been his brother, why would he run? It didn't make sense.

Why that alleyway?

He'd never tell her, but he didn't believe Leonardo would go to April's when he was so close to home. April was _like_ family but she _wasn't_ family, and family meant everything to his brother. Leo would do anything for his family. He'd fight for them, sacrifice for them, forgive…

After a week of lonely nights and watching television through April's neighbour's window, Raphael decided he was wasting his time. Whoever had appeared in the alleyway wasn't coming back and if they did, which he doubted, April would let them know. He moved on.

He started going back across the east side. He'd done that many times before and he wasn't saying he believed April, or was getting his hopes up, but if it was Leonardo and he was revisiting familiar sites, then it wasn't unexpected for him to visit their old stomping grounds. He paid a visit to Central Park. Coney Island. He spent a week underground going back through the sewer tunnels of their youth. And once that was done, he buried the anger at wasting time chasing down drunken ghost visions and returned to his own meticulous searching. If anyone was going to find Leonardo, it was Raphael—not April O'Neil.

xxx

"L-leo?"

Ryan sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding. He'd had the same dream every night since they'd gone to New York for Halloween. He couldn't get the woman out of his mind. She was the first person that had ever looked at him like she knew him. Like she knew who he was. What he was.

And he'd turned and run.

She'd called after him but he was quick and fuelled with panic. He'd run and run and run, until he almost collapsed. When his head had stopped pounding and he didn't think he was going to pass out, he'd looked around and realised he was near the place Cody and he had agreed to meet if they became separated. Ryan found Cody not long after, sitting on the sidewalk under a streetlight having a panic attack. When Ryan appeared, Cody had grabbed him as if to never let go.

"I-I didn't know what to do, I just, I didn't know whether to go to the police but I didn't want to do that because, because of, and you took off so fast and I didn't know if you'd remember to come here or if you knew how and I…"

It took Cody half an hour to calm down and he only stopped shaking when they climbed into the pre-booked taxi. The driver had looked over his shoulder and asked if they'd had fun. Cody groaned and shrunk down into the seat as if to hide. The driver turned back to the road and Ryan heard him mutter: "Must have been a good time."

Cody had been so distraught he hadn't asked much beyond whether Ryan was okay. He hadn't noticed Ryan's silence throughout the trip. The drive back to Long Island took hours. The traffic was…well, New York traffic. Ryan had tried to shut his eyes in the car and pretend he was elsewhere. But every time he shut his eyes, he saw the woman's outline in his mind's eye and heard her call out.

Leo. Was his name Leo? It didn't sound right yet, it didn't sound wrong. It was just a name.

That question had haunted him since. Cody hadn't broached the topic of their failed adventure but Ryan knew he couldn't hide in the attic forever.

It was late afternoon and he was sitting on his bed staring at the ceiling when Cody knocked from below. A moment later, Cody came up and stood nervously on the edge of his living area.

"You can come in," Ryan said, still staring at the ceiling.

Cody lumbered over to the nearest camp chair. He cleared his voice three times before he spoke.

"Ryan, are you okay? I, I know you haven't been fine since we went to New York but I wasn't sure what was wrong and I didn't want to pry but you haven't seemed to get over it and, and…"

Ryan glanced over at his friend.

"I'm worried," Cody said. He seemed embarrassed but he held Ryan's eyes. "I never asked what happened to you that night."

Ryan sighed and then sat up. Maybe it was time to tell his side of the story.

He turned to look at Cody. "The night we went into New York, I… I think I saw someone who knows me."

He then filled Cody in on the parts of the story he hadn't already—the chase, the alleyway. The woman. Cody has listened patiently, not asking any questions but just letting him talk. He wasn't upset Ryan hadn't shared this information with him, and Ryan was grateful for that. He had too much to think about without guilt.

"I don't remember her yet, she feels familiar," he said, as he finished off his story. "I can't explain it."

"Do you think your name is Leo?"

Ryan shrugged but said nothing. He got up and started pacing. His attic space measured four paces by five and the certainty of that reassured him. It was a small known among a sea of unknowns. Who was that woman? Did she know him? Should he know her? Or was she just a drunk in an alleyway? His headache came back with full force and he screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught.

"Want some painkillers?" Cody asked.

"Please."

Ryan used the quiet after Cody left to evaluate his situation. He looked up at his cork board. It was covered in newspaper clippings and everything he could remember. All the leads he'd followed.

All the leads you could follow from the safety of the attic, he thought.

In one night, he had covered more ground then he had in three years. By the time Cody came back with a glass of water and two tablets, Ryan had made up his mine.

"I want to go back to New York."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: I might be a little inconsistent with posting in the next few weeks so I thought I'd post this one earlier then I usually do. Enjoy!

* * *

**April sees another ghost, Donatello sees a fist, and the security cameras see nothing.**

It was almost closing time and April had her head inside an old cabinet. She'd had no customers that Friday and it had been a slow week.

Slow month, she thought. Slow in customers, slow in sales, but not in debt.

She cursed.

Or homework.

Trying to occupy her mind, she decided a little dusting would help.

She hated dusting.

Though, it was better than thinking back to the events of Halloween. She'd wracked her brain for anything she'd missed—a sight or a smell. The more she thought back, the more she questioned herself. Her memory was starting to get blurry but she still wanted to hold on to the hope it was Leonardo. That he had returned.

Thinking about that night was better than thinking about the reaction of her friends to the news. They'd been polite but it was obvious they thought she was lying. Donatello brushed off her questions and Michelangelo changed the topic. Raphael…

April paused and thought about it. She hadn't seen him since.

She'd spotted him once on the rooftop of the building across the street, three nights after Halloween. It made her happy to know he believed her enough to keep watch but he hadn't spoken to her about it. In fact, she hadn't spoken to him at all.

The doorbell behind her chimed and she called out: "Just a moment". She hoped the eagerness in her voice didn't scare them off. She'd be happy if they didn't buy anything and just wanted to chat; anything to get her out of her present thoughts.

"I was almost about to close," she said, turning away from the cabinet. And froze.

Her front door was still open and Leonardo stood in the entrance. It was a chilly November afternoon but Leonardo was rugged up for the middle of winter. Large boots, big baggy pants, baggy jumper, and over the top of everything—a large winter coat. Sunglasses covered his eyes, a beanie covered his head, and a scarf wrapped tight around his neck concealed most of his face. She couldn't see an inch of green flesh yet she knew it was him. She could just feel it.

"You came back?" she stammered.

April took a swift step forward but stopped when she saw him take a step back out the door. Would she chase after him? Could she keep up?

She couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses but she could feel him staring at her. It was then she noticed he was shaking. It couldn't be from the cold. A thought drifted through her mind from her last meeting with his brothers. Was he hurt? She held her hands up.

"Please don't run." Her voice sounded weak. Her mind was racing and she felt like she was going to faint. Maybe she was having a stroke? Was the stress of her studies, the breakup with Casey, and her friends and their broken home finally getting the better of her? April suddenly needed to sit down and stumbled to the seat by the register. She also had another reason. Years before, Donatello had installed a duress alarm under the counter which she now pressed with her knee.

No one was in her apartment to hear the silent alarm, but the alarm alerted another household and she very much wanted them to see who had arrived.

She looked up at Leonardo. He pulled his collar higher, as if to hide his face a little more. He seemed hesitant. Unsure.

"It's me, April," she blurted out.

She saw no flicker of recognition and she frowned.

"You, you don't remember me?"

He slowly shook his head.

"I…"

He groaned and took his head in his hand. His other hand was shaking against the door so loud she could hear it rattle. She couldn't help herself when her mouth opened and she asked in a quiet whisper: "What happened to you?"

Leonardo froze and then without a word, he pulled on the handle and disappeared out into the street.

xxx

Raphael had been asleep when April's shop alarm went off, but the brothers had trained for such events. Michelangelo wasn't home but Donatello was and within thirty seconds, both brothers were armed and racing through the sewers. April never set the alarm off unless it was serious. Images from the nightly news of armed holdups flashed through Raphael's mind and he felt guilt settle in his stomach. April was a good fighter but she didn't have years of experience, and Casey wasn't there for backup. She was all alone.

When was the last time I saw you? he thought. What was the last thing I said to you?

He'd avoided her because he hadn't wanted to talk about the stranger in the alleyway. Now it seemed foolish. He ran faster.

They were almost at her shop when Donatello's Shell Cell rang.

"It's April!" he shouted. He didn't stop as he answered the call.

"April, we're on our way—calm down."

Raphael had his eyes on Donatello's face and he watched as his brother slowed and his eyes hardened. He could hear April shouting from several feet away and he came to a stop. She wasn't shouting in fear.

"Come again?" Donatello said.

Now they had stopped running, April's voice echoed in the silent sewer.

"He was here. HE. WAS. HERE. He didn't seem to recognise me but he came back."

Raphael darted forwards and grabbed the phone from Donatello's hand.

"Who came, April? Where is he?"

April took a shaky breath.

"I'm telling you, it was Leo. But he ran again. I couldn't stop him."

Raphael cursed.

"I tried to stop him but he ran down the road and ducked into a car. They took off before I could do anything." She paused for a moment. "I got part of the number plate."

"Text it to us," he said. "Good work, April."

He hung up the phone and found himself facing a furious Donatello.

"You believe her?"

"April's not imaging things," he said. "And she got a number plate."

"She's not imaging things, she's stressed," Donatello growled. "She's studying, she had to deal with the Casey situation, and she thinks she might need to sell the shop. This is just stress talking. You didn't believe her any more than we did at Halloween."

Raphael ignored his brother and pushed on.

"Whoever it was came back."

"Someone came into the store. Someone."

Raphael pushed his brother.

"What's your problem? We have cameras in the shop and a number plate. We can check—"

"Check what? Leo's dead, Raph," Donatello snapped. "Wishing isn't going to bring him back. April seeing things isn't going to bring him back. He's gone. You have to let him go."

Raphael swung his fist before he realised he'd raised his hand, catching his brother across the jaw. Donatello landed sprawled in sewer water with a loud grunt, and Raphael froze in horror. He hadn't hit any of his brothers since Leonardo in the alleyway. He'd promised himself he'd never do it again.

"Don, I'm sorry, I—"

He leant forward to help his brother to his feet but Donatello wrenched his arm away. He didn't even look at Raphael as he slowly got to his feet.

"I'll look at the security video," Donatello said, his voice hard. "I'll look up the number plate. But I'm doing this for April. I'm not doing this for you."

And then without a word, Donatello shoved past his brother and started walking back towards the lair.

xxx

Raphael wanted to scream. Why was it today they learnt the security camera facing the front door had run out of batteries? All the other footage was useless. The intruder had not taken more than a step inside the shop and his collar had been raised the whole time. The footage was in grainy black and white. And April only got half the number plate.

Michelangelo had raced home and the brothers sat at the kitchen table in the lair as Donatello listed his findings.

"There's nothing on the security footage and I've plotted the locations of all the registered addresses of every possible number plate combination,"

Raphael could see a bruise forming under his brother's eye and Don had not looked at him once since they got home. Donatello clicked a few buttons and a map of New York appeared.

"As you can see, it was a popular year."

Raphael felt his stomach drop. Dots covered the map. Manhattan, Long Island—all over New York State. There were just too many. It would take a lifetime to check all those addresses.

Donatello turned to Master Splinter.

"I don't know what is happening but April didn't say she saw a shell or anything that specifically identified the person as Leo. She said the person didn't recognise her and she even said she couldn't be sure it sounded like Leonardo."

Donatello paused for a moment before he continued.

"April's under a lot of stress at the moment-"

Raphael tuned this part out. He'd heard it all before. He was focused on the map of New York, fighting the sinking feeling flooding him. So many dots.

Donatello cleared his throat and then said gently.

"April means well, but all that happened was someone went into her shop. Nothing more."

Silence followed. With a sigh, Master Splinter rose from his chair and slowly shuffled towards his room. His door shutting echoed in the quiet lair.

Nobody said anything at the table and the silence was only broken by Donatello.

"I'm heading to April's to fix the security system," he said, looking at no one "It needs an upgrade and it should have notified us when the battery was low. No camera over the door is a fatal flaw; it's lucky we picked it up now and not after something _important_ had happened."

Raphael bristled but said nothing. He didn't say anything either as Donatello and Michelangelo headed out. He didn't move from the kitchen table.

His eyes were still fixated on the map and the thousands of dots.

He felt like he should go to April's and speak to her, but he hesitated. Donatello had summed up everything quite well. It was true, they had no proof it was Leonardo, except for a feeling from April. The person hadn't remembered April. And why would Leo go to April's?

Aprils? The alleyway?

That riled him the most. Why wouldn't Leonardo come home?

April said something about Leonardo not seeming to recognise her. He brushed that aside. If he didn't recognise her, why did Leo go to her shop? It didn't make sense.

No, he told himself firmly. No. If it was Leonardo, he would have come home. He wouldn't have gone to April's.

This was just another red herring. Another time waster. He had to keep following the path he was already on.

He leaned forward and shut the laptop with a click.

Later that evening as he was buried in his research, his phone buzzed and he opened it to a text from April.

A: Don just left. He said he didn't believe me. Do you?

Raphael looked down at his phone and then across his desk. Maps were laid out everywhere and he was planning his next few weeks of searches across New York. There were a few facilities he hadn't been in for a while and a ton of warehouses. He also hadn't spoken too many of his street contacts in weeks. He had his work cut out for him and didn't have time for this.

R: sorry April, busy atm. Talk later.

He then turned his phone off.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**April gets some phone calls, Cody gets a visit from the police, and Raphael burns his last bridge.**

The front door banged shut and April sighed. It was nearly closing time and that was the second customer of the day. They'd bought nothing.

I'm going to lose the shop, she thought.

Panic seized her but she crushed it down until it rested somewhere in her stomach, waiting for another chance to rear its ugly head. It had done that more than she was used to, the panic. She'd wake in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Sometimes she'd be alone in the shop and whirl around; looking for a sound she was sure she'd heard. Her nerves were frayed and she didn't know how to stop it.

She glanced at her battered mobile and wondered if she should text Raphael again. Originally, she'd wanted to see him to talk about Leonardo but now, she just wanted to see him. He was avoiding her just as much as the rest of his family, but his disappearance hurt the most.

She clenched her fists. After all her years of siding with him in his search for Leonardo, Raphael had completely abandoned her. Especially now! She had seen his brother; he had come to her shop—twice! Yes she hadn't actually seen him and his voice hadn't sounded the same and he hadn't recognised her…

The shrill of the shop phone made her jump and she stared at it for a moment. Should she bother answering? Looking back at the front door and how it had been days since a sale, she reached for it.

"Second Time Around."

The line was quiet. She swapped the phone to her other hand, she always felt her hearing was better on her left, and tried again.

"Hello? Second Time Around?"

Nothing, yet she knew someone was there. She could feel it. And it didn't seem like a prank call. She closed her eyes and crossed her fingers.

"Leo?"

She heard faint movement on the other end of the line.

"I get these headaches," the voice said before he trailed off.

April almost didn't dare breathe. The voice was silent for a moment.

"I know what a car is," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can do simple sums, I know where Japan is, and I know what a maple is." He paused for a moment. "But I don't remember who I am. I don't know where my family is. I just don't…there is so much I don't know."

April sat up straight in her seat.

"I know who you are," she breathed. "I know your family. They are desperate to see you." Her mind drifted back to the last time she saw said family and she grimaced. It was a lie but a truth all the same. They would be desperate if they were speaking to him know.

"I...I'm not ready."

"Why not?"

The answer must have caught him off guard because he was quiet for a moment.

"I don't know you," he whispered. "How can I trust you?"

"But you came back," she pressed. "You came to my shop – twice. And you've called. Why would you come back if you didn't know me? Or trust me? You must remember something?"

"St-stop asking questions—"

There was a click and the line was dead. April looked down at the phone in her hand. Somewhere in New York City, Leonardo had called her. He was still searching, even if he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

She scrambled for her phone, determined to call Raphael and was half way through dialling his number when she stopped. She still had nothing to prove it was Leonardo. He hadn't said he was Leonardo. He hadn't admitted to being a humanoid turtle. He hadn't said a lot really.

She could almost hear the conversation in her head to Raphael, or any of his family. And she frowned, putting her phone down.

She needed more evidence. And there was only way she was going to get it.

She looked at her shop phone and then around the store. Determination grew in her and she clenched her hands in her lap.

I need to keep the shop open a little longer, she thought. Just until I know.

xxx

Ryan's hand's shook as he cut the call. It felt like his head was a large drum and someone was pounding on it in time with his heartbeat. He staggered and threw his hand out to stable himself.

I shouldn't have rung, he thought, the same time as another thought drifted through his head. I shouldn't have hung up.

With a groan, he placed his head in his hands. It felt like it was going to explode. Lights were starting to flash before his eyes and he wondered dimly if he'd make it to his bedroom before he passed out. He took a shaky step, the floor rose up to meet him, and he knew no more.

xxx

Flashes of green and red and purple and orange and a single candle in a large silent room that spluttered and died—

Ryan's eyes snapped open. There was a face before him but around it were other faces. They were concerned, looking down on him. They were familiar but as he blinked, they disappeared until he wasn't sure he had actually seen them. Names were on the tip of his tongue but they too disappeared and he was left with only one—Cody.

Cody smiled at him weakly. He was sitting on the corner of the bed, his hands fidgeting with the blanket.

"Could you not pass out in the hallway?" He laughed nervously but there was a tinge of panic. "I'm just saying, it might be hard to explain if my aunt shows up."

Ryan sat up slowly and looked around. It took him a moment to realise he was in Cody's room, lying on his bed. Cody cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I panicked," he said, running his hand over his head. "I came home and you were sprawled in the hallway and I was worried my aunt would show up and you know I don't have the strength to pull you up the stairs and I thought—"

Ryan cut in.

"It's okay. I was just confused." He looked around the room. He realised it had been months since he'd been in there. There was no need to come in and he respected Cody's privacy. He nodded at a movie poster on the wall.

"New addition?"

Cody shook his head.

"Cycling through the old ones."

Silence stretched between them.

"What happened?" Cody said. "I leave to grab a few groceries and when I come back…I, I thought you were dead."

He looked embarrassed and Ryan suddenly felt ashamed. He rarely left the attic in the daytime so Cody wouldn't have expected him downstairs, let alone collapsed on the floor. Coupled with bad health running in the family and everything that had happened over the past few weeks, Cody probably thought the worst.

Ryan averted his eyes.

The past few weeks had been bad. It had been his idea to go back to New York. He'd been woken by nightmares every night since Halloween and he'd thought going back might help. It hadn't. The second he'd stepped into the shop, it felt like someone was jamming an electric drill into his brain. He'd been nervous being out in New York during the day, but it had reached a fever pitch in the shop. He barely heard what the woman had said to him and eventually, he had turned and run; jumping back into the taxi Cody hired. It was like he'd had the flu, though he couldn't remember if he'd ever had it, and he was left cold and shaky. It was only when they'd made their way back to Long Island that he'd been able to relax enough to stop shaking. And it was only later that night, after swallowing more than the standard dose of painkillers that his headache had abated.

He'd known then he couldn't go back to the shop. Just the thought sent sharp flashes of pain through his head. No, if he wanted to get information – he had to find another way. Then, the idea of ringing had suddenly dropped into his mind. He hadn't told Cody and had waited until he had left the house.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," he lied.

He could see Cody beginning to panic.

"You don't know what happened? Do you think it will happen again? Has it happened before?" he asked, clearly forgetting Ryan's memory loss. "Do you know what set it off? Maybe I should start ordering groceries so they are delivered—"

"I'm fine," Ryan said. He was horrified Cody was thinking of getting the groceries delivered. Cody needed to get out of the house. Anyway, if Cody didn't leave, how was he going to use the phone?

"I was just thinking about…"

He trailed off. Cody looked at him expectantly and he sighed.

"I was thinking about that girl," he lied. "I was trying to remember her, trying to remember anything, and my head started to throb and I must have passed out."

Cody furrowed his brows.

"You were thinking about her from the hallway?"

Ryan blinked once and shrugged, offering the first thing that came to mind.

"I wanted a change of scenery."

Cody looked at him like he'd grown a second head and Ryan didn't blame him.

"Maybe you could think about your past in the attic? Just in case this happens again? And maybe warn me next time?"

The serious look on Cody's face had Ryan laughing and when Cody pulled a face at him, it only made him laugh harder. There was someone in New York that might know about him. There might be someone in New York who knew nothing. But it was nice to know that no matter what, Cody was there.

xxx

"Second Time Around?"

"It's me."

April steadied herself against the shop counter. It felt like she had been holding her breath for days and finally, she was able to breathe again.

"I'm glad you called back."

His voice was hesitant.

"How can I trust you?"

"What?"

"I don't know you. How can I trust you?"

That caught April off-guard. The idea Leonardo wouldn't trust her didn't make sense, but she was reminded of something he had said last time. It had been bouncing around in her head ever since: I don't remember who I am?

If it was Leonardo and that question was the truth, it wasn't really Leo she was talking too. At least not as she remembered him.

"You must trust me," she murmured. "You called back."

Silence.

"I…I want answers."

April breathed out.

"I can give them to you. Ask me anything and I'll tell you."

The voice on the other end was quiet for so long, she wondered if he was still there.

"What's my name?"

"Leonardo," she breathed. It had been years since she'd said that name as a word owned by a person, not just as a descriptor. "We—she paused for a moment—we call you Leo for short. Your father named you from a book he found on renaissance painters."

"…that's absurd."

April laughed gently.

"That's what I thought the first time I heard the story."

He was quiet for a moment.

"You said 'we'? Who is 'we'?"

April paused for a moment. Was this her place? Was it her right to tell him about his family? To tell him of his origins? She mulled the ethics over for a moment and he repeated the question.

She took a deep breath.

"You have three brothers."

And once again, the line went dead.

xxx

"You have three brothers."

Ryan felt as if his head exploded. His eyes blurred and he threw out his hand to steady himself on the wall.

—he ducked as his opponent tried to behead him and brought his sword up feeling a splash of blood across his face but he couldn't stop so he turned and sensing danger he pulled a shruiken from his belt and with a quick flick of his wrist it flew through the air and buried itself in the back of the ninja about to stab Rap—

Ryan opened his mouth and screamed.

xxx

Cody was pacing the attic.

"Last week you collapsed, this week you scream loud enough the neighbours call the cops."

Cody shook his head, once, twice, and then he turned to stare at his house guest.

Ryan was sitting on his bed. Even if he wanted to answer, he couldn't because he had screamed so loudly his voice was gone. All he could do was sit and listen as Cody paced and questioned and fretted. He wished he could apologise, yet he didn't know what words to use. Again, Cody had left the house but this time, he'd returned to find a police car waiting for him.

In this sleepy corner of the world where everyone seemed to know everyone, it was lucky the police hadn't broken down the door. The police had come, asked questions, waited to see if anything had been stolen (because they were grasping at straws by this point to explain a scream) and left. And Cody had come straight upstairs.

"This all started after Halloween. We should have never gone into the city. We should have never gone back."

Ryan wanted to interrupt Cody's rambling, reassure him, but his mind was elsewhere.

He had three brothers.

He didn't feel different. He had always felt a sense of loss, but had just imagined it came with the territory of missing family. But was his sense of loss bigger because he had three siblings? And a father?

Do they look like me? he wondered. He glanced down at his hands. His green-three fingered hands. Somehow, he knew the answer.

Yes.

What about his father? Naming his siblings (his sons?) after renaissance painters?

He groaned as his head ached again. Too many questions. Not enough answers.

xxx

It took a few days for his voice to come back. Another few to summon the courage to call. Then it was Sunday and the shop was shut. Monday, he'd call Monday.

"Second Time Around."

Ryan breathed in and out slowly.

I will not pass out. I will not pass out. I will not scream either. I will not scream or pass out. I will not scream or pass out.

"I only remember flashes," he blurted. "Fragments. I…I don't understand them. I think, maybe…" he trailed off.

"This is hard for you?"

Ryan nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"Every time I try to remember something, it's like my brain shuts down. I don't understand."

The woman on the other end of the phone sighed.

"It occurred to me you might have memory loss," she said. "It would explain a lot. But, I've also been having second thoughts. You might be lying. You could be a spy sent to get information. We have enemies." Her tone was matter-of-fact but he caught hints of disbelief.

He was thrown.

"I'm not a spy," he said. The thought was absurd and he was thrown for the moment. But the woman, April, wasn't finished.

"The first night I saw you, it was dark. Maybe I didn't see what I thought I saw; maybe I saw what I wanted to see. And the day you came into the store, I didn't get a good look at you. And you ran, again. You say you want answers but you don't stay around to get them."

She was out of breath by the end and took a moment to catch herself.

"You call me from a silent number so I can't call back."

She laughed.

"Maybe I am losing my grasp on reality. Maybe the stress…" she trailed off.

Ryan felt like his one option for answers was drifting through his fingers, yet he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't trust her, not fully, not yet, though he wanted answers. She didn't seem to trust him completely either, though she wanted to give answers.

"I don't know what you want from me," he muttered.

"Come back. Come home."

The mere utterance of home sent his head pounding, and he breathed in through gritted teeth.

April sighed and his lifeline slipped a little further away.

"Somethings got to give, Leo," she said. "You need to make a choice."

xxx

The last few days had been harrowing for April. When Leonardo hadn't called back the next day or the one after, she'd been sure he wouldn't. She'd even kept the shop open over the weekend in case he did. He hadn't and her hope dwindled.

She didn't know what his triggers were, but she didn't want their conversations to not mean anything. She wanted her friend's family back together. She would do anything to help.

April paused and picked her words carefully.

"Would you meet one of your brothers? Just one? It might help. You might find the answers you're looking for?"

There was a sharp intake of breath but she waited.

"I'll think about it."

And the line dropped.

Hope filling her, April ended that call and dialled another number. It wasn't answered the first time but she kept redialling until it finally was.

"Raphael, we need to talk."

xxx

Raphael's recent searching for his brother hadn't revealed anything new. Like it hadn't for the weeks before, or the months, or the years.

He'd searched the east side – again. He'd spoken to all his contacts – again. He'd … He'd done everything and there was nothing – again.

He'd caught a severe cold and been sick for the last two weeks. Too sick to get out of bed. Too sick for television. Too sick for nothing but spending hours alone in his bedroom sleeping, or wishing he was sleeping. But not sick enough to stop thinking. In the long hours between his siblings checking in on him, and the hours when his brain would finally shut down and he'd sleep, Raphael'd done a lot of thinking. And he'd reached a conclusion.

He was tired. He was tired in his bones. He was tired in his soul. He'd tried and he'd tried and he'd tried.

He was done trying.

When he was finally feeling well enough to leave his bedroom, Raphael found the pull he had felt all those years, to go out into New York and search and search and search, was leaving him. He didn't even have the energy to look back over his research. The pull was like water seeping through his fingers, and he didn't have the spirit to close his fingers to keep it there. Instead, he'd watched a movie with Michelangelo. Something old they'd seen a number of times. Donatello even joined them towards the end.

It hurt, Leonardo not being there, to laugh at the terrible action scenes and corny dialogue, but it didn't hurt like it had in the past. Raphael was able to bare it. It didn't suffocate him. In fact, he realised later that night after returning to his hammock, he'd enjoyed himself more than he had in a long time. A week later, when he was well enough to leave the lair, he didn't. He stayed in.

It's April's fault, he sometimes thought bitterly. If she hadn't made up the story about the drunk in the alleyway and the person in the shop, he might have been able to go on longer. But he couldn't. He had started to see what he had been doing for so long. He was chasing phantoms. Ghosts in the night.

Leonardo was dead. He had to let him go.

Sleep had never been so pure. A calmness had descended over his life, and he breathed it in with relish. The thought of his brother still hurt, but the stab was less sharp. The knife of guilt felt blunt. He descended into a quiet he hadn't experienced in a long time. He was at peace.

It had been so long since he'd received a phone call he hadn't realised his Shell Cell was ringing until Michelangelo shouted from the kitchen. Raphael threw the magazine he'd been reading to the floor and picked up his phone instead.

April didn't even greet him.

"Raphael," she said, "we need to talk."

He paused.

It had been quite a while since he had seen April. Not since the incident. He'd been putting it off but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever. Now was better than never to make amends.

"I'll be over in twenty."

"Good."

And she hung up.

xxx

Raphael was as good as his word. Exactly twenty minutes later, he was knocking on the window of April's apartment, content that he was about to get another part of his life back. It only took April thirty seconds to bring his new world crashing down around him.

Raphael stared at April with his mouth wide open.

"You've been having phone conversations with someone claiming to be Leo for weeks," he snapped. "And you're only telling me now? What is wrong with you!"

"I didn't think you would believe me!"

"I don't!"

April's eyes hardened.

"Would you feel the same way if Casey told you?"

"Casey wouldn't believe a story like that!" he shouted. "You're putting my family at risk telling strangers about us – he ignored the scowl April directed at him—This is a trap April. How can you be so foolish?"

April slammed her hand down on the table.

"What's gotten into you?" she shouted. "You've been searching for Leo for years. I'm telling you that someone claiming to be Leonardo has been calling the store. He says he doesn't remember things. He—"

"And you believe him?!"

Before she could answer, Raphael cut her off.

"I'm done April," he said, his voice hard. "I can't do this anymore."

April took a step back, her eyes widening in alarm.

"What do you mean you're done? You're quitting?"

"Already quit," he muttered. "I've looked and I've searched and I can't do it anymore. I'm tired."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "NO! I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

He turned away and gripped the kitchen bench.

"He's dead, April," Raphael's voice was flat and emotionless. "You need to accept it."

It was the first time he had said the words out loud, and it felt like a weight lifted off his chest. He turned to April. She looked horrified.

"Please, Raphael," she begged. "You need to believe me. Your brother is alive. He's come to my shop—twice! He's called several times. He—"

It was something in the tone. In the plead. It upset him. Everything Raphael thought he had moved on from and buried over the last few weeks came roaring to the surface. He rounded on her.

"Why would he come here, April!" he screamed. He waved his hand around at her apartment. "This isn't his. This isn't where he belongs. Why wouldn't he come home?!"

"I told you, he doesn't remember—"

"He doesn't remember? He would never forget us!"

"If you just spoke to him—"

Raphael held up his hands.

"Stop April, just stop!"

"Leonardo is out there!" she shouted, throwing her arm out towards her window. "He needs our help! He's your brother, your family, you should—"

"Don't talk to me about my family!" he snarled. "Don't talk to me about my brother. He was my brother, not yours, mine. You're not family."

Raphael regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. It was almost like he could see them floating in the air; dark evil thoughts made real. April's eyes widened as the words sunk in.

"You don't mean that?"

Her lip quivered and she blinked back tears.

"You don't mean that. You guys are my family. I don't, I…"

Silence descended over the kitchen.

Raphael could not believe what he had said but at the same time, a fury had descended over him. April talking about Leonardo like he was her family, like her brother, it was too much.

If they hadn't been running an errand for April, he wouldn't have been in the alleyway that night. Leonardo and he wouldn't have fought. The bridge wouldn't have happened.

He turned his back on her. He knew the right thing to do was apologise but he didn't want too. Memories of that night, his brother, the fall were resurfacing in his mind's eye and he wanted someone to suffer along with him.

He looked at her, standing in her kitchen with tears running down her face, and felt nothing but contempt.

"I'll see myself out."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**The fabric of a firm decision frays following an encounter with the not-so-distant past.**

Raphael usually ran the rooftops at a steady pace. Not tonight, not after his fight with April. Tonight, he could feel the soles of his feet start to bleed as he ran. His breathing tore at his lungs. He knew he couldn't keep this pace for long, but he pushed himself harder and harder. Trying to put as much distance between him and April. Him and his words. His words and their meanings.

The next gap between the buildings was wider than he expected but rather than stop, Raphael bellowed in anger and threw himself across the empty space. He missed the ledge but his sai slammed into the brickwork a moment later. He hung several floors above an alleyway, listening to the sound of his voice echoing around him.

The idea April was losing her grasp on reality thundered around his head. It was then overshadowed by a deeper anger.

Why is she doing this to us? Why is she doing this to me? Haven't we suffered enough?

With a growl, Raphael dragged himself onto the rooftop and threw himself on the ground. In the past, more nights then he could count, he sat on rooftops like this one and wondered if his brother was somewhere in New York, staring up at the same night sky. Tonight, all he saw was darkness.

"I'm sorry!" he bellowed into the night. "I'm sorry! Do you hear me! I'm sorry!"

He didn't know if he meant Leonardo, or April, or both. He slammed his fist into the pavement next to him, and choked back a sob. No, he wasn't upset about April. It all went back to Leonardo. That night. What he did.

Leonardo was faster but Raphael had always been stronger and once he had hold of his brother, he wasn't going to let go. When he'd thrown his brother to the floor in the alleyway, Leonardo had cried out as he landed heavily on his right arm but instead of helping him up, Raphael had stood over him. He didn't remember all the words he'd screamed, but he remembered how Leonardo hadn't met his eyes and just sat, cradling his arm.

And then later…

"LEO!"

The Foot Ninja disappeared over the edge but Leonardo pushed off from the falling scaffolding and threw himself towards solid ground. If Raphael could just get there in time, Leonardo would make it.

Time slowed. Raphael knew his brother wouldn't make the distance and dove towards him. Leonardo desperately held out his right arm as Raphael stretched out his own. His heart leapt as skin made skin contact but before he had a good grip, Leonardo flinched and drew his arm back slightly. Raphael screamed as Leonardo slipped through his fingers and plunged into the churning waters far below.

It was only later Raphael realised his brother had been stretching out his right arm, desperate to grab his brother and save himself. The same arm Raphael had injured earlier that night.

No one knew what had happened in the alleyway. He'd never told anyone Leonardo had been injured. That he had been unable to hold on because of his arm. And it was all Raphael's fault.

"I can't do this anymore," he said to the night, his voice raw. He wiped his hand across his eyes. "I tried Leo, I tried to find you but I didn't. I can't do this anymore. I—"

His voice caught in his throat again, but he knew it was for the best.

"I need to let you go."

Raphael sat, breathing in and out on the rooftop. The sky didn't crack in half, the city didn't erupt into chaos—it continued on around him. Like it always had, and like it always would.

He breathed in deeply, held for a moment and then breathed out, letting it all go.

Letting Leonardo go.

xxx

Raphael sat on the rooftop for an hour, if not more, before deciding he wanted to go home. It was then he heard the shout.

Years of training had him dashing across the rooftops, not the same unhinged flight of before, but rather a calculated run to conserve energy. His mind was focused.

He came to rest on the side of a building and glancing over the side, a smile spread across his lips. Purple Dragons. Three of them. One was threatening a young kid with a knife while two others ransacked his backpack.

"Hurry up," the knife holder said, his voice carrying up to the rooftops. "We ain't got all night."

Raphael smirked. Three Purple Dragons—this is exactly what he needed. He took a quick look up and down the alleyway. No one was around. Without another thought, he crept down a nearby fire escape and when he was just above the Dragon holding the knife, he jumped over the edge.

The knife wielder didn't know what hit him.

Raphael felt a feeling of satisfaction at the feeling of bones breaking underneath him as he collided with the Dragon, who didn't make a noise as he crumpled to the floor.

"Get out of here!" he roared at the young man being robbed. He didn't need to say it twice as the man turned and dashed down the alleyway. With a smirk, Raphael turned to the remaining Dragons.

"Fellas," he said, cracking his knuckles. "You picked the wrong night."

The two Dragons seemed frozen for a moment, startled by his appearance, but then snapped out of it. The nearest shouted something unintelligent and charged Raphael.

Predictable, he thought. 3,2,1—

Raphael dodged to the left out of reach, and then slammed his fist into the Dragon's skull. The young man dropped like a stone. Smirking, he rounded on the last one.

This one looked from his friend to Raphael, and sneered.

"You'll pay for that, freak!"

Raphael spread his arms wide.

"I'm waiting."

"You weren't so tough last time," the Dragon spat. "Why don't you turn and run before I hurt you this time."

Raphael took another step forwarded and laughed, his voice echoing in the alleyway.

"You? Hurt me? I could have my hands tied behind my back and I'd still beat you."

It was the Dragons turn to laugh.

"You're memory ain't too good, turtle. All the boys know how you ran from us. You weren't so brave then."

There was something in the Dragon's tone that made Raphael pause. He was used to the Purple Dragon's version of trash talk, but this was something different. Raphael decided this Dragon just wasn't too bright.

"You're an idiot," he said, taking another step forward.

The Dragon smirked and held his ground.

"You're not too bright if you don't remember how you turned tail and ran. We found you on that rooftop over on 5th with your little friend and you ran rather than fight you—"

Raphael felt like time had slowed. He could feel his blood racing through his body and he suddenly felt lightheaded. The Purple Dragons had never been a threat. They were a workout at times, but only through sheer weight of numbers more than skill. Raphael had never run from a Purple Dragon, and he doubted Mikey or Donatello would have either. If it wasn't them, who could it be? Was it possible?

Suddenly, pieces started to fall into place.

Raphael lunged forward and slammed the Purple Dragon against the wall. The Dragon cried out as his head flicked back and smashed into the concrete, but a second later his shout died as Raphael pushed his sai against the man's throat.

"When?" Raphael snarled. "When!"

"A, a few weeks ago—"

"You have to do better than that," Raphael grunted, his voice low and dangerous. "Give me a date."

"I don't—"

Raphael spun his sai around and slammed the blunt end into the Dragon's face—once, twice.

"Do you remember now?"

The Dragon whimpered and spoke around a mouth full of blood.

"Halloween."

Raphael nearly loosened his grip on the man. Halloween? It couldn't be. He must have spotted Michelangelo or Donatello.

He gripped the man tightly again.

"What he look like?"

"I'm sorry man, I'm sorry—"

The man whimpered as Raphael drew him back and slammed him against the wall again.

"You better tell me now—he pushed the pointed end of the sai into the man's throat until blood ran—or I'll give you another hole to breathe from."

Tears and blood were running down the Dragons face as he whimpered.

"Like a turtle," he said. "Like a turtle."

Raphael nearly screamed with frustration.

"What was he wearing!"

"A cape and, and some kind of weird pants."

Raphael took in a shaky breath. That definitely wasn't Mikey and Don's costume, and it's not like they would change. Mike had been working on his costume for months, and Donatello wasn't the type to be that into Halloween to have more than one costume.

"Are you sure?" Raphael growled.

The man nodded furiously, before starting to sob.

"What happened after he ran off? Where'd he go?"

"We lost him in the streets. P-Please, please, don't kill me."

Raphael took a shaky breath and paused before asking the next question.

"Did he recognise you?" He shook the Dragon again. "Think hard. Did. He. Recognise. You?"

"I-I don't think so," the Dragon whimpered. "He didn't seem to know who we were. Y-You guys usually don't run."

Raphael could feel his hands starting to shake, but he knew he had one more question. He pushed his sai back into the man's throat.

"Did you hurt him?" Raphael whispered. "Don't lie, I'll know."

"N-No. H-He ran away before, before…" The dragon whimpered and didn't finish.

Raphael pulled the man away from the wall but rather than slamming him against it again, he threw him as hard as he could towards the pavement. The Dragon landed in a heap, where he whimpered and moaned.

The red turtle crouched down beside him, his sai still in his hand.

"If I ever see you again," Raphael said. "I will kill you."

The thug whimpered before scrambling to his feet and stumbling into the night.

Silence descended over the alleyway, and Raphael stood there for a moment.

He's alive? he thought. Is Leo alive? Was April right?

The night held a charge that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time either.

Hope.

He knew what he had to do. Climbing back up the fire escape, Raphael raced back towards April's.

xxx

"Hello."

"Hello?"

"Oh, umm. Second Time Around? What do you want?"

"I…I wanted to talk to April. Is she there?"

Raphael froze, the phone in one hand and a pen in the other. He didn't recognise the voice, but he felt a strong connection.

Raphael had spent the last few days hiding in April's storeroom, waiting for this exact call, listening to April pace around the store. Who knew a small shop like April's had such a busy landline? He'd fielded calls from suppliers, potential customers, April's mother, and a prank call or three. He hadn't told his family what had happened, nor where he was and why. That could come later, if there was anything to say.

April and Raphael were still on rocky territory after their fight, of which he still hadn't apologised for. It seemed to have been pushed under the rug after he told her what the Purple Dragon had said. It was too dangerous for April to pop in too many times to see him, the entrance to a New York street only a few metres away, so he'd spent his time attempting to read, attempting to meditate, and just waiting.

It doesn't sound like Leonardo, he thought. But then, do I really remember what he sounded like?

Raphael cleared his throat but suddenly didn't know what to say.

"I…"

"I can call back if she is busy-"

"NO! Wait!"

He heard the caller take a short breath in. Raphael had gone over the conversation he'd wanted to have for days, had everything planned. April had told him the caller; he wouldn't call him his brother until he'd laid eyes on him, was skittish and likely to hang up if he pushed too hard. Shouting down the phone probably wasn't the best start.

He took a shaky breath in. He didn't know for sure if it was Leonardo, yet when he shut his eyes, it was almost as if he could feel his brother.

Damn the security implications, he thought. Damn everything.

"I…I wanted to talk to you," he said. "I'm your brother."

The voice on the other end of the line was quiet, but he could hear him breathing so we knew he was still there. Finally, the caller cleared his throat.

"I see."

Raphael narrowed his eyes. I see, was that all he had to say? He took a breath and pushed on.

"April said you don't remember things?"

The caller sighed.

"No."

"Anything?"

The caller—Leo?—said nothing. It's almost like his silence said everything for him.

The silence stretched and Raphael felt like he was losing him. He still didn't know if it was his brother but after all this time, he wanted to know and said in a rush: "I want to see you."

Raphael held his breath and waited. The silence on the other end was deep but he had to fight with himself not to jump in.

"...I don't know."

"I want to see you," he repeated. "You said you don't remember anything, this could help. It has too."

"What if it doesn't?"

Raphael paused.

"There's only one way to find out."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Raphael shut his eyes and begged.

"Leo, please?"

The voice was quiet for a moment.

"I don't even know if that's my name."

And the line dropped.

Raphael gripped the phone in his shaking hand and quickly looked down at the device in his lap. On the second day, he remembered April said the caller always rang from a unlisted number. He'd raced home that night for a little bit of technology Donatello created a few years ago.

In his lap was a small device that not only revealed unlisted numbers, but also the callers address.

"Bingo," Raphael muttered, noting down an address in Long Island before putting the device away.

He quietly slipped over to the door and edged it open. The sun was beginning to set and he knew within a few hours it would be night. He hadn't slept too well over the last few days, a ball of nerves, but he threw caution to the wind and nestled under a few blankets. He needed the rest; he had a long drive out to Long Island and a mystery caller to visit.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Phone conversations lead to actual conversations, whether anyone is ready for them or not.**

Time had no meaning on this journey. Raphael drove and he drove and he didn't stop until the bright lights of New York were far behind him. The area around him became less developed. Less developed for New York standards. Less developed for someone who slept under the New York subway system.

Why didn't we search further than Queens? Raphael thought, angry with himself. Why didn't we search all of Long Island?

They'd always assumed Leonardo would be somewhere in Manhattan, but if this phantom caller was his brother, Raphael was never going to find his brother. Coldness seized him. He'd been searching in the wrong place and had almost given up.

Raphael had been driving for an hour and a half when he turned off the main road and took a few sides streets. Large trees lined the road, and the only light came from the moon and the few houses he saw as he passed. He could hear the ocean crashing nearby. He looked once more down at his phone and knew he was close to his destination. He didn't want the roar of his motorcycle to announce his arrival, so he pulled up early and concealed his bike in the undergrowth of a neighbour's front yard. Checking no one was watching, he jumped the fence and hid in the shadow of two large trees.

The house the call had come from was set back from the road. A circular gravel driveway led up to a large three-story … mansion. That was the only way Raphael could explain it. It was completely symmetrical, the mansion, from its windows to the porch that wound its way around the front. He almost found it unnerving. He knew Donatello would have explained the design style and period, but Raphael didn't care. All he knew was someone with a lot of money lived in that house.

Ducking between the shadows of the giant trees ringing the house, he crept around the back to find a large swimming pool, a clearly unused tennis court, and an enormous garage. The size of the garage made the lairs one seem minuscule, and Raphael's dislike for the house owner deepened.

He turned his attention back to the house. From the back, he could the second level must have a light on, and also what he assumed was the attic. Someone was home.

Raphael hesitated. After all these years, what was he going to find in this house? Was he walking into a trap? Maybe Donatello's machine was wrong and he was about to break into an innocent persons home?

He cast his eyes around at the visible signs of wealth and decided who ever lived there couldn't be too innocent.

I've come this far, he thought, and before he could talk himself out of it, he snuck over to the back door and grabbed it.

He was surprised to find it unlocked.

"What's wrong with these people?" he muttered, shutting the door quietly behind him. Moonlight filtered through from outside and he paused, listening to the house around him, trying to ignore the loud beating of his heart. He seemed to be standing in a large room that only held a long table surrounded by chairs. The dining room? Living in the sewers, he'd never understood the fascination of having specified rooms in a house. Why eat dinner in the 'dining room' when the couch was just as good?

To his left was the kitchen, and he couldn't see what was to the right as the door was shut. He crept around the table and saw a staircase through another half-closed door. He paused, weighing his options, and then decided he couldn't help himself: he went for a wander.

The kitchen was three times the size of the one in the lair. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling over a sink, and cupboards and benches covered the walls. He opened one of the cupboards and found it full. He smirked to himself and decided that if he didn't find his brother that night, he was going to at least raid the kitchen for supplies. He was also determined to take something from the garage. Raphael left that room and headed for the staircase.

Light shone down from the second floor. He was a little unnerved he hadn't seen any inhabitants, or heard them, but he crept up the staircase anyway. He came to a landing and paused. Closed doors surrounded him and he could hear a clock ticking nearby. Which way?

A floorboard creaked above and startled Raphael. He was out in the open and casting around, he made for the nearest room. Inside it was dark and he hid behind the door, listening. Two people were talking upstairs. He couldn't make out what they were saying but then he heard one say "Good night" and suddenly, footsteps were coming down a ladder. He shrunk a little further into the room as a young man appeared from off to the left.

Raphael narrowed his eyes and watched him go. The man was tall, much taller than he was, but the human hunched his shoulders and walked with a slight shuffle. He wasn't a threat, and Raphael dismissed him as the man made his way into a nearby room. As the door opened, Raphael had a quick glimpse of a bedroom before the door snapped shut. He cast his eyes up to the attic, his heart beating fast. Who was in the attic? Could it be the caller?

He heard the bed in the room the man disappeared into creak, and he decided to wait a few minutes before making another move. Only then did he look around the room and if he wasn't trying his hardest to be silent, he would have whistled. He'd found his way into the biggest library he'd ever seen. Bookcases lined the walls and more filled the space in the middle. Books then filled all the walkways, large piles coming up to Raphael's waist.

He spied some of the titles. History. Politics. Spanish. He rolled his eyes. If his brother was here, dragging him away from this might be harder than he anticipated.

Raphael waited a few more moments before ducking out the room and into the one the man had exited from. He was startled to find himself in another bedroom, yet he'd heard the man coming down a ladder? It was somewhere in here. He just had to find it.

xxx

Ryan had said goodnight to Cody and had settled down with a book on Japanese history when—he wasn't sure. He'd had a prickly feeling in the back of his mind for about half an hour and now, it was getting more insistent. Insistent to do what, he wasn't sure either, but it was there.

Cody called it his 'Spidey Senses' and it had come in handy in the past. Unannounced visits by Cody's aunt, other visitors—forewarned is forearmed. But tonight? Now? What was going on?

Ryan glanced around his room and decided he was being paranoid. He'd been on edge since calling April and speaking to whoever that was on the phone. They'd said they were his brother, but Ryan wasn't sure. He'd felt a connection but he'd also felt an engulfing sense of dread. He couldn't explain it and the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. He was just glad Cody had an unlisted number; otherwise they might have called back.

Ryan settled down with his book. Anyway, there was no one in the house except him and Cod—

The attic ladder creaked. Someone was in the house.

Adrenaline was running through him and Ryan was on his feet in an instant. He listened to the soft pad of feet coming up the stairs. He knew he should turn off the attic light and hide, but there was something, something beyond the panic that told him it was okay. Or was it just okay to start screaming?

He stood frozen as someone pulled themselves into the attic. He was sure they could hear his heartbeat; it felt like it was screaming across the space.

After all these years, is this it? he thought wildly. Am I about to be found by a home intruder?

He heard the person grunt, it sounded like they kicked something, and then, he saw movement between some of the boxes. He narrowed his eyes. And out into the light cast by his lamp, stepped a turtle.

Ryan instantly felt a rush of emotions. Fear, anger, joy, sadness; they all tumbled over each other in his head. He took in everything from the green skin to the three-toed feet to the shell poking over his back and finally, the face. It was the first time he could remember that he had ever looked into a face that looked like his own.

You're like me, he thought. You look just like me.

xxx

Raphael stepped into the light cast by the small lamp and froze. Before him, stood Leonardo.

His breath caught in his throat. It was definitely his brother. The human clothing didn't hide the fact he had a shell, nor his green skin. Raphael drank him in like a dying man. It was his brother. He'd finally found his brother.

"We thought you were dead," he croaked.

He covered the distance quickly and threw his arms around him. This was the moment he hadn't dared dream about. After all the fruitless searching, the long lonely hours, the despair; this was the reward he'd always wanted.

Leonardo pulled away.

Raphael felt his happy moment disappear further as Leo took a few steps back and put a camp chair between them.

"What's the matter?" Raphael asked.

"I told you, I don't remember," Leonardo said. He tilted his head and seemed to take the other turtle in. Then he shook his head.

"Anything? You don't remember anything?"

Leonardo shut his eyes and shook his head again.

"Quick flashes. Maybe a feeling," his voice trailed off. "I don't know how to explain it."

Raphael clenched his fists. This wasn't how he ever saw this moment happening. He had seen two different things happening tonight. The first, he was going to find someone impersonating his brother and he was going to make them pay. The second, he was going to find his brother, and he was going to take him home. It was simple. Everything would be okay. He hadn't really believed the amnesia story and he'd assumed his brother would remember him the moment he saw him. Apparently not.

"Surely you see the family resemblance?" he said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Leonardo looked at him again.

"I suppose."

Raphael felt a different emotion wash over him. Despair.

"I'm a big tall freakin' turtle. You're a big tall freakin' turtle," he snapped. "What more do you want?"

Leonardo cleared his throat.

"April said something about brothers?"

Raphael seized on that.

"Yeah, two. I'm Raphael. The loud one is Michelangelo and the smart one is Donatello. Or Don."

Leonardo tilted his head.

"If ones loud and the other smart, what does that make you?"

The one that didn't give up, he thought. Then a smaller voice spoke up. The reason we're here.

He banished that thought.

"You often called me a hothead."

Leonardo looked baffled.

"That seems a little rude."

Raphael chuckled.

"You should have heard the things I called you."

Leonardo wore a thoughtful expression.

"So, we didn't get on?"

—"Why must you fight me on everything?" Leonardo's shouted, his voice hoarse from all the shouting and the bruise forming under one of his eyes spoke to their recent fight. Raphael narrowed his eyes and snarled something back, deciding the bruise was about to be joined by another on the other eye—

Raphael changed the subject.

"Who else lives here?"

Leonardo hesitated.

"My friend, Cody. It's his house, well, it was his grandmother's house but when she died, she left it to him."

Raphael stiffened at the word friend. Sudden images of his brother and some human having fun while he'd been driven mad by years of fruitless searching flashed before him. They had few human friends and he wasn't prepared for them to have any more.

"Has he treated you alright?" he said, clenching his fists.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes.

"Like family."

That hurt more than Raphael would care to admit.

"Well, you have a family in New York and they'll be desperate to see you when they find out you're here," Raphael said. "If we leave now, we can—"

Leonardo's eyes widened.

"I'm not leaving."

Now it was Raphael's turn to be confused.

"You have brothers, a father, friends," he said. "How can you not want to see them?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Leonardo said, his voice rising. "I don't remember you. I don't remember them. I don't know who you are, I don't even know if I can trust you. I wasn't ready for this!"

He turned away and then quickly turned back.

"You shouldn't have come. I want you to leave, now."

Panic seized Raphael. He'd only just found his brother and Leonardo wanted him to leave. He couldn't, he wouldn't. He had to make his brother understand what this meant to him. He took a step forward and Leonardo took a step back.

"Leo—"

"Stop calling me that," he snapped. "This is all too much. I shouldn't have called April. I shouldn't have talked to you. I'm not ready. I wish I hadn't called. I wish I hadn't gone to New York. I wish I'd remained lost."

Raphael froze. He felt like he was tumbling off a cliff, scrambling to hold onto something, as his brother slipped through his fingers. He held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I pushed. I, I just want you to remember—"

"Well I don't!"

Raphael shut his eyes. April had warned him the caller—Leonardo!—didn't like being pushed, and he'd done it anyway.

"I know and I'm sorry." He couldn't believe he was begging but all the same, he would have thrown himself at his brother's feet if it stopped him demanding he leave. "Just don't send me away. Please?"

His plea hung in the air and Leonardo seemed to be weighing it. Raphael had a sinking feeling, he could sense his brother was about to dismiss him. He quickly jumped in.

"I can tell you about, well, you," he said. "I can tell you where we grew up, how we mutated, what, what happened to you." He held up his hands. "I promise not to push you. You say you don't remember anything, but maybe I can fill in some of the gaps?"

He took a step back, visually giving Leonardo some space, and crossed his fingers. Silence stretched, and finally his brother nodded.

"Okay."

A smile broke out over Raphael's face and he quickly sat in the nearest camp chair.

"This might take a while," he said. He motioned his brother over to the bed and waited for him to sit before starting. "What do you know about T.C.R.I?"

xxx

Two hours later, Raphael's voice was getting hoarse but he'd covered the basics. As basic as their lives were. Leonardo hadn't said much, only interrupted to clarify a point here or there but mostly, he'd just sat and listened. His face showed no emotion, but Raphael reassured himself that it showed no denial either.

Suddenly, Raphael was talking about three years ago and Leonardo leant forward. It was his first sign of interest.

Raphael took a deep breath. Where he'd been animated up to that point, his voice now lost most of its emotion.

Visions flashed in front of his eyes. Their fight in the alleyway. The bridge. Raphael reaching for his brother. Leonardo falling.

This was his chance to right a wrong. This was his chance to tell the truth, but suddenly, he was hit with other visions: Leonardo screaming at him to leave and never return.

Don't tell him, a voice murmured in his ear. He's already said he's not ready. Just tell him the basics. Don't tell him everything. You've only just met him, leave that for later.

Raphael hesitated but then he was hit again with the image of Leonardo screaming at him to leave.

He made his decision.

"A storm had been forecast, but you still wanted to go out." His mind flashed back to that night, just before they fought, and he spoke to bring himself back to the present. "We weren't out for long before it began to rain." Another memory flashed past. "We were just about to go back to the lair when we spotted some Purple Dragons robbing a store. We gave chase and wound up on the Bayside Bridge."

Rain. A flash of lightning. Cars whizzing overhead in the storm. His brothers fighting beside him.

"We got separated and the next I saw, you and a Purple Dragon were tumbling over the edge."

He heard a scream echo from the past, and he wasn't sure if it was his or his brothers. Raphael shuddered and clasped his hands on his legs.

"The Purple Dragon's body washed up three days later, but we, we never found you. We searched for you, everywhere. We turned New York upside down but after a while, everyone else seemed to give up hope. But I didn't. I never stopped searching. I…"

His voice trailed off.

"I never gave up," he murmured.

Silence stretched between them.

"Thank you," Leonardo said, his voice quiet.

Thank you for telling me? For never giving up? For finding me? Raphael shut his eyes and looked away.

He hadn't told his brother everything. He had left so much out.

Not tonight, his inner voice whispered. Not tonight. You've only just found him. He won't understand. You need to wait until he will understand.

Raphael couldn't handle the silence and he spoke to fill it.

"What happened to you?" he asked. Where had Leonardo been all those years? Why hadn't he come home?

Leonardo sighed and leant back against the wall. He looked down at his hands for a moment before he started talking.

"I don't remember much," he said, not looking at his brother. "I don't remember falling, but I have flashes."

He shook his head once.

"I don't understand them but they might be flashes of being in churning water. Waves crashing down on me. I don't know how long I drifted."

He paused for a second before looking up at Raphael.

"I only really know what Cody told me. He was walking along the beach during the storm and saw me lying on the shore line. He thought I'd drowned. It was late at night and it wasn't until he was beside me he realised I wasn't human."

Leonardo laughed.

"He thought I was a sea monster. He didn't know what to do but he dragged me up to the house. He, he thought I was going to die."

Leonardo looked back at his hands.

"But I woke a few days later. I couldn't remember my name or where I was from, yet I knew how to read and write…" he trailed off, the memory evidently still raw.

"You didn't remember anything about us?" Raphael asked.

Leonardo shook his head.

"No. While he was caring for me in those early days, Cody said I'd sometimes mutter in my sleep. He couldn't make it out but it had sounded like a name, something starting with 'R'."

His eyes didn't meet his guests but Raphael knew he had made the connection. He smirked.

"Something like Raphael?"

Leonardo looked away.

"Cody wasn't sure what he heard and we thought it might be my name. We settled on 'Ryan'."

Raphael stiffened but he held himself back.

Leonardo finally looked at him.

"You said the Bayside Bridge?"

Raphael nodded.

"We searched all over Manhattan and as far as Queens, but we never thought you'd have drifted so far."

Raphael felt a wave of anger.

Why hadn't they searched further? Why had they stopped at Queens? They were turtles! If anyone was going to float, it was going to be them.

He looked at Leonardo.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We should have searched further."

Leonardo shrugged.

"It hasn't all been bad. Cody has been good to me."

Raphael felt that rush of jealousy again, but he clamped down on it. His brother was alive, that was all that mattered for the moment. For the moment.

Wondering what time it was, Raphael fumbled for his phone and was surprised. He'd been talking to Leonardo for several hours and if he didn't leave soon, he wouldn't make it home before sun up.

He had to leave his brother. The idea made him sick.

Raphael looked up. Leonardo sat, studying the blanket he'd wrapped around himself during the night. He wanted to reach out and hold him, to make sure he was still there. He wasn't sure how he was going to leave. He had been afraid all night he would blink and his brother would disappear. Finding his brother had been hard. Leaving him after so long was going to be much harder.

He cleared his throat.

"I need, I need to go."

Leonardo glanced up and Raphael continued.

"I need to get back to Manhattan before the sun comes up."

It sounded like a plea for understanding but Leonardo looked relieved.

"I'll come back though," Raphael said quickly. "Tomorrow?"

Leonardo's face darkened.

"Maybe in a few days," he murmured. "You've told me a lot, I need to process it."

He didn't look up and Raphael felt panic seize him again. What if in the days Raphael was gone, Leonardo disappeared again? He wasn't going to let that happen.

"I'll come back on Thursday," he said. He didn't wait to hear if that would be enough time.

"Is there any other way to contact you other than the landline?"

Leonardo shook his head. Raphael wondered if he did and he just wasn't saying. He narrowed his eyes and decided he would change that.

He got to his feet and it occurred to him he would have nothing but the memory of meeting his brother to prove he had seen him. What if this was all a dream? Waiting to see him again would be hard enough without the fear that he'd made it all up. He glanced around and when Leonardo wasn't looking, he quickly brushed his hand over the bedside table. His brother hadn't noticed, and he tucked the item into his motorcycle jacket. Not wanting to delay the inevitable or give Leonardo a chance to tell him not to come back, he clasped his brother on the shoulder.

"See you soon," he said, ignoring the way his brother stiffened under his touch. Without a backwards glance, he left.

It wasn't until he was back at his motorcycle he noticed his hands were shaking. It took him awhile to fumble the piece of paper out of his pocket, and he held it up to the faint light cast by the moon. Leonardo's memories might be gone but his handwriting hadn't changed. It was a haiku, a Japanese poem. He squinted to read it.

Lost

Beyond the wild sea

An epic, large lost searching

To find family.

He'd signed it 'Anonymous'. Not Ryan. Anonymous.

Raphael smiled and tucked the poem into his jacket. His brother was alive. Bent but not broken. And if this poem said anything, he'd been searching as well.

He looked back up at the house. He'd never in his life wanted to remain somewhere so badly. The feeling burnt in him, and it took all his might to not run back into the house and refuse to leave.

Give him time. Give him space, a voice in his head said. If you push, you'll lose him for good this time.

Swinging his leg over the motorcycle, he decided he had no choice but to wait until Thursday. Thursday night couldn't come quick enough.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Words are said, but not the right ones to the right people**

Raphael pulled into the lair as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon. He couldn't really remember the journey, it's like he had been lost in a void. All he could think about was Leonardo. His long lost brother. The brother he had found. Also...

What was he going to tell his family?

He pulled down the motorbike leg and paused. What was he going to tell them? How do you tell your family you found their long lost brother? Their son?

And then he thought about something Leonardo had said.

"Didn't you hear to me? I don't remember you. I don't remember them. I don't know who you are, I don't even know if I can trust you. I wasn't ready for this!"

Maybe he shouldn't tell them? Give Leonardo some time to get to know Raphael, to trust him. Explain what actually happened on the bridge, the full story. The thought went around and around his head and after sitting for ten minutes, he was still no closer to an answer.

Something will come to me, he thought, as he got into the Utron elevator.

Below ground, Raphael could hear low voices coming from the kitchen. Michelangelo and Donatello were talking at the table.

"Where's Master Splinter?" he said as way of greeting, taking a seat. His voice was calmer than he expected.

"Still in bed," Donatello said, glancing up at him. Like April, his relationship with his brother was still a little rocky after punching him those weeks before. "He isn't feeling well."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"If we don't push him with needless worry, he should be fine."

Donatello didn't need to be specific; Raphael knew he was talking about him. Before he could reply, Donatello narrowed his eyes and said: "Where were you last night? I called April and she said you were 'out'?"

Raphael's mouth went dry.

Now isn't the time, now isn't the time, now isn't the time.

"I was out."

Donatello shook his head and turned his eyes to the newspaper in front of him. Raphael ignored Mikey who watched him for a moment before turning away as well.

I'll tell them tomorrow, he told himself as he reached for the cereal.

Tomorrow never came. There was always a reason.

He didn't tell them the next day because Master Splinter was still unwell. The day after was the first day Master Splinter joined them for morning practise, and he did not want to put too much pressure on him. The day after, he'd already not said anything for a few days so why bother them? Anyway, he was seeing Leonardo that night and he was worried they'd want to come, which would definitely be in violation of his brothers desire not to be 'pushed'. Maybe he could convince Leonardo to come home and he wouldn't have to tell them anyway.

Yeah, that seemed like a good idea.

April was another problem. What to tell her? She'd been texting him to know what happened. Initially Raphael thought he'd lie and say he hadn't found Leonardo, but what if his brother called the shop? He had to tell her, but he worried what she would do with this information. He went to visit her the evening after he returned, and after telling her what happened, she started pressuring him to tell his family.

"You haven't told them?" she said, surprise evident on her face. "You have to! They deserve to know."

Raphael instantly regretted telling her. She pushed and pushed until he snapped.

"Look, you said it yourself; if we push him, he'll run," he snarled. "He doesn't remember anything. He doesn't want to meet them. If I can have some time with him, maybe I can help him remember. I can bring him home."

In the end, April begrudgingly agreed to keep quiet. He left promising to keep her in the loop while also promising himself he'd pass on as little information as possible.

She'll just complicate things, he told himself as he hurried back to the lair, ignoring the voice that also said without April, he wouldn't have found Leonardo in the first place. He found it was easier to bury that voice. He had enough troubles.

It was hard fighting the urge to ring his brother. He knew the landline number and had been on the verge of calling more than once, just to hear his voice, but each time he stopped himself.

What if Leonardo tells me not to come back? he thought to himself; at breakfast, during training, while attempting to watch television in the hope it would make time somehow hurry up. It was that fear that stopped him.

Finally, Thursday arrived.

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Raphael was on his bike and zipping through New York's traffic. With a sense of purpose and a burning desire to make sure he had not dreamt the previous trip, he broke the speed limit the whole way. Before long, and definitely way before the estimated arrival time, he was parking his motorbike again in the undergrowth.

He looked up at the house. It wasn't that late yet most of the lights in the house were off.

What if I imagined the last meeting? he thought, suddenly unsure of whether he should be going into the house again. What if Leonardo isn't there?

He shoved that voice down, and was finally reassured when he'd crept around to the back of the house and saw a light on in the attic.

He took out his sai at the back door but found it unlocked again. He gritted his teeth and decided he had to have a word with Leonardo. It wasn't safe to have an unlocked door and he locked it as soon as he was inside.

He made his way into the house proper, listening for any noise. Not hearing anything, he made his way up the staircase and into the bedroom, where he found the collapsible attic ladder already down. It was here he first heard voices; two of them. One he recognised as his brother, but he didn't know the other and an unexpected wave of hot anger crashed over him. Gripping the ladder harder than required, he pulled himself up into the attic with a loud grunt.

The voices stopped. Raphael waited a moment before he picked his way through the chaos to the edge of the space where Leonardo was. He breathed in, waited a moment, and then stepped into the light.

Raphael felt his hands instinctively move towards his sai. Leonardo sat on his bed but he wasn't alone. His companion was the adult male he'd seen the time before, and the name 'Cody' slowly drifted around Raphael's head. Cody the 'friend'. Cody the 'human'. Cody sat ridged in the other camp chair; his eyes wide. Even from here, Raphael could see his hands shaking. But he wasn't looking at Raphael; he was focused on the sai. Raphael knew Cody wasn't a threat but he twisted his sai, letting the light bounce off their edge. The other human seemed to shrink back, as if trying to somehow disappear into the camp chair.

Raphael smirked and then turned to Leonardo, only to find his brother looking furious. He dropped his hands from his weapons.

Leonardo turned from Raphael to the human.

"Cody, this is Raphael, the turtle I told you about."

That stung more than Raphael expected. He took a step forward and said: "I'm his brother."

"Apparently," Leonardo muttered.

Raphael clenched his fists, but then made himself relax.

Don't rush this, he told himself. Don't push him. Patience.

He breathed out.

"The backdoor was open, again," he growled.

Cody cleared his voice.

"Ryan said you were coming. I didn't want you to have to pick the lock."

It took Raphael a moment to figure out who Ryan was.

"His name is Leonardo."

Cody went bright red. He looked from Leonardo to Raphael and back again.

"Shall, shall I get you some water?"

"Got any beer?"

He wasn't surprised when Cody shook his head, but Raphael saw a chance to get rid of him for a while.

"Water's fine. Tap water from the kitchen would be great."

Cody quickly got up as if glad to leave the room. Raphael followed him with his eyes until he disappeared down the ladder, before turning back to Leonardo. His brother was glaring at him.

Raphael was struck by a wave of memories. How many times had Leonardo glared at him from across the Dojo, the breakfast table, the couch, the room, the rooftop? And three years later, it was still the same look. How he had missed that look. How he had missed his brother.

He blinked and realised he'd missed what Leonardo said.

"What?"

"What. Is. Your. Problem?"

Raphael walked over and took Cody's chair.

"Nothin'."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes.

"Don't be rude to Cody. If you're going to be a jerk, you can leave."

A sick feeling washed over him, and Raphael realised he had to change tactic. He didn't know how far he could push Leonardo and what he would need to do to actually get his brother to kick him out? Leonardo couldn't physically make him leave, but that wouldn't stop Leo refusing to see him.

Or he could disappear again without a trace? Raphael thought as panic seized him. He decided to behave.

"How've you been?"

"Fine."

"Remembered anything?"

"No."

Silence.

"Have you been trying?" was on the tip of his tongue when Cody reappeared.

"I got you water but then I remembered we had some soda in the fridge. Do you like soda? I wasn't sure. I don't mind soda. Ryan, sorry, Leonardo, umm, anyway, isn't a fan and I didn't want to bother you again to ask so I just brought one of everything we had."

He held out what had apparently been a full glass of water but was now half empty, and then cradled awkwardly in his other arm were three different cans of soda.

Raphael blinked. He had never met a human so socially inept and lacking in confidence? This human stood in his own house, sweating and babbling at a complete stranger. April was strong and confident. Casey was usually confident, though he would get tongue-tied when he first met April. He didn't know whether to pity Cody or laugh, but then he caught sight of Leonardo watching him closely.

He knew if he didn't pick his words carefully, the next words out of Leonardo's mouth would be telling him to leave. He had to think fast.

Raphael smiled widely and said "Thanks"; grabbing the glass of water and two soda cans, immediately popping the lid on one of them.

Try and kick me out now, he thought, taking a small sip. It would be rude to kick someone out who hadn't finished their drink. And I'm going to take all night.

xxx

Raphael couldn't fault Cody, he was a gracious host. Cody disappeared again and returned with slices of pound cake. When that was finished, out came the biscuits and Cody kept refilling his water glass. Before long, Raphael had to ask for the bathroom.

After he was done, he was about to go back up to the attic when he heard the soft murmur of voices overhead. He stole up the ladder and waited quietly behind the door. He could just hear the end of a conversation.

"He's so rude. How can we be related?"

"He's probably just reacting the only way he knows."

"By being a jerk?"

"Maybe."

They were silent for a moment.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay. I don't feel sick anymore."

Sick? Raphael thought, worry blossoming in his chest.

"Maybe you should tell him how it affects you when he asks questions? If he knew, he mightn't push. I don't think he'd want you to suffer."

"No. I don't trust him. I think it might be easier to just ask him to go. A-And not come back for a while."

Raphael froze. Asking questions was making Leonardo feel sick? He'd never have known if he hadn't heard.

"No. I don't trust him. I think it might be easier to just ask him to go. A-And not come back for a while."

Now it was Raphael's turn to feel sick. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want his brother to suffer either.

Raphael almost missed Cody's reply.

"Give him another chance," Cody said gently. "From what you told me, he searched for you for years. And now he's finally found you, maybe it's not the happy ending he was expecting. It's probably hard on him too, and he mightn't know how to react."

Raphael drew away. He suddenly had a completely new appreciation for Cody. He would back off from the human's case, until at least Leonardo trusted him.

So they didn't think he'd been listening, he crept back down the stairs and shut the bathroom door loudly. He made his way back to the attic. Time for a new tactic and he'd spotted it before he left.

"Who wants to play Call of Duty?"

xxx

Raphael stayed as long as he could, but knew he would soon run the risk of still being on the streets when the sun rose. Cody had long ago fallen asleep on the bed. In the silence, few words had passed between his brother and him as their players raced around the screen, but it was almost comfortable. Finally, Raphael's character died and he knew with a sinking heart it was time to go.

He put the controller down and stretched.

"Good game," he said, slowly getting to his feet. "I almost had you a few times."

Leonardo flashed him a rare grin.

"I've had a lot of practise."

Raphael moved over to where he'd dumped his jacket earlier in the night.

"Can I come back in a few days," he said over his shoulder. He didn't want Leonardo to see how desperate he was to hear him say he could. He fiddled with his jacket for a moment before turning.

Leonardo was watching him. Raphael knew he was sizing him up and he was flooded with relief when his brother finally nodded.

"I brought you this," Raphael said, walking over to his brother and giving him a Shell Cell.

Leonardo turned it over in his hands.

"What is it?" he asked. He clicked a button and it opened.

"It's a phone," Raphael said. "Donatello made them for us a few years ago. This is an old version and pretty basic, but it works."

Leonardo looked up at him with a surprised look. Raphael shrugged.

"Donatello's a genius."

It was an early prototype, the battery life wasn't great, it couldn't make calls only send texts, and it could only hold a few numbers which were scrambled to protect them—it's not like the brothers had many people to contact—but they were virtually indestructible. Also, though Raphael didn't mention it, they were the first phone to come with a small tracking module. He kept that knowledge to himself.

He watched as Leonardo clicked on the contacts icon and found there was only one.

Raphael.

He looked up and Raphael shrugged.

"In case you wanted to contact me."

He cleared his throat.

"You can't make calls on that, only accept them. But you can text. And…and I put some family photos on there in case you were interested."

He felt Leonardo draw back a little.

"Did you tell them about me?" Leonardo said, not meeting his eyes.

"No," Raphael said, glad at the decision he had made. "I didn't want to push you."

He paused for a moment and then added: "I'll let them know when you're ready."

He turned away so Leonardo couldn't see the look on his face. He was rather proud of himself, that had been a stroke of genius.

"Thank Cody for the cake," he said, slinging his jacket over his shell. "And the biscuits. I'll see myself out."

He was halfway to the attic door when he heard his brother say something. He turned back.

Leonardo was standing on the edge of the light cast by the lamp; half in and out of the darkness.

"Thank you," he repeated.

Raphael smiled.

"See you in a few days."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Family reunions and family feuds **

Raphael made the trip out to Long Island every two to three days. If he wasn't worried about crowding Leo, or worried about the questions from his family about where he was going, he would have made the drive out every night. When he wasn't with his brother, it was like he was drowning and it was only when he saw him again that he could breathe.

He never text to see if it was okay to visit. He'd just drop in. Sometimes they'd watch television or late night movies on the small screen. Occasionally they talked. Leonardo would ask him about motorcycles and engines, and Raphael would ask what he'd been reading. Raphael steered well away from asking about his memories, or talking about the past unless Leonardo specifically asked; which he rarely did. He never had to repeat the story of the night his brother disappeared. These conversations also never strayed into dangerous territory: When was he coming home? Had he remembered anything?

Raphael sometimes tried subtle things. One time, he brought a couple of books from Leonardo's room. He'd watched, anxious, as Leonardo flicked through them but there were no wide eyes or flashes of recognition. Instead, he got a smile and a quiet "thank you". Raphael tried not to feel disappointed.

Sometimes Cody joined them, sometimes he didn't. Raphael got the feeling Cody was giving Leonardo space to get to know his brother and again, he was grateful. And Cody had also grown on him. He was really good at impersonations and spent hours making them laugh. He was also quite intelligent and more than once, Raphael was lost in a conversation with no idea of what Cody was talking about. He knew Cody would get on well with Michelangelo and Donatello, and occasionally felt bad at the way he had acted at their first meeting. When Cody's lawnmower blew up, he was able to make it partway up to him by fixing it. As an added bonus, he got to work in the large garage and even better, he was working so long he didn't realise the time and had to sleep over.

But usually, the brothers just played video games. The PlayStation 2 wasn't doing too well but it managed most nights. After they'd cleaned out the collection of games in the attic, Raphael started raiding the stash they had at home. He hadn't thought anyone had noticed, until one night when he was on his way out.

Raphael had grabbed his motorcycle jacket and was stepping into the Utron elevator when his youngest brother appeared at his side.

"Where are you going?" Michelangelo asked, a smile across his face and his voice cheery.

His eyes flicked from the motorcycle jacket to the bag full of games Raphael slung across his shell.

"Out."

Michelangelo raised one eyebrow as the elevator closed and it rumbled upwards.

"Anywhere specific? Can I come?"

Raphael grunted, but said nothing.

He still hadn't told them. He just hadn't been able to. It hadn't been the right time or he was worried about Leonardo's reaction. He'd already had a fight with April about it, more than once, and the last they'd spoken, she'd threatened: "If you don't tell them soon Raphael, I will." He hoped it was an empty threat but he hadn't spoken to her since.

"You've been going out a lot lately," Michelangelo pushed, following behind as Raphael headed to his bike. Raphael ignored him, fixing his attention on the bike and hoping he would go away.

Mikey didn't.

As Raphael slung his leg over the motorcycle, Michelangelo stood in front of the bike.

"Get out of the way."

"I miss you," Michelangelo said. Gone was the cheery voice, replaced by a hollow sound that did not match his brother. "We don't hang out anymore. You're hardly home. It's like you came back to us for a while, but now you're gone again."

Raphael tried not to look as Mikey blinked back tears.

"It's hard for me too. W-We lost Leo and now I'm worried we're losing you too." Michelangelo sniffed loudly. "Or maybe we lost you a long time ago and I've only just noticed."

He wiped his hand across his face and looked up at his brother.

Raphael was torn. He'd been caught off guard by Michelangelo. Yes, they'd been spending more time together after Raphael gave up on Leo, but then they'd drifted apart again after he found him. He hadn't thought Mikey noticed, but maybe it was Raphael who hadn't noticed.

Or just didn't care, a voice said in his head.

Michelangelo was a complication. He didn't want a scene in the garage but the longer he waited, the less time he would have in Long Island.

Maybe it's time you told someone? he thought, April's threat echoing.

Raphael made up his mind.

"Get on," he said. Michelangelo's face broke into a wide grin and soon there was another weight on the bike. He handed his brother his spare helmet but stopped him before he put it on.

"We have a long ride ahead and I'm not stopping."

"How long?"

"You don't have to come."

Michelangelo quickly put on his helmet and gave him the thumbs up. Raphael turned back to the front of his motorbike. He'd wondered for a while how he was going to eventually break the news of Leonardo to everyone. Maybe this was a start in the right direction?

Before he could lose his nerve, he took off into the night.

xxx

Raphael wasn't confident going as fast as he usually did with a passenger on the back, so it was well past his usual arrival time when he pulled into Cody's driveway. In gratitude to Raphael for fixing his lawnmower, Cody had cleared a space under the outside garage, and this was where he now parked his motorcycle.

He had felt Michelangelo's fingers digging into his sides since he'd pulled into the driveway, and had ignored the furious poking in his back the closer they got to the house. He could hear muffled shouts from Michelangelo but with the helmet on, he couldn't make out what he was saying.

"What are we doing?" Michelangelo hissed as he finally took off his helmet. "Why are we here? You said we had a long way to go, but you didn't say anything about Long Island!"

Michelangelo whipped his head around. The night sky was full of clouds, casting the backyard into patches of light and dark. Raphael slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the key Cody had given him on a prior visit.

"Come on."

"You have a key? Why do you have a key!" Michelangelo's said, his voice rising with every step towards the house. He grabbed Raphael's arm.

Raphael shook him off.

"You'll see."

Michelangelo looked up at the house. Raphael could remember what it had looked like the first time he came there. Silent. Intimidating. An unknown.

His brother planted his feet and folded his arms, refusing to move.

"Raph, we shouldn't be here," he said, shock and surprise in his voice. "This is crazy, even for you."

"Fine, I'm going in. You can stay here."

Raphael walked around the side of the house and a moment later, his brother hurried up behind him.

Cody had promised not to leave the back door unlocked anymore, but Raphael was hoping to eventually get Donatello over to install a security system. Until now, he'd settled with a new deadbolt on the back door. Michelangelo took a sharp breath when Raphael put the key in the lock and turned, as if expecting it to be a fake.

"If this is a joke, it's not funny," he hissed. "I—"

Raphael turned and put his hand over his brother's mouth.

"One more word, Mikey," he warned. He glared at his brother for a moment before letting them in and locking the door behind them. The house creaked silently around them and Raphael listened, hearing nothing out of the ordinary. He could feel Michelangelo almost shaking beside him, but he ignored him as he made his way to the staircase and began to climb.

"Raph…"

He kept ignoring him and didn't stop until he was underneath the attic door. He took the long pole and knocked twice, waiting for the "Come in." He turned back to his brother.

Michelangelo's eyes were wide and fearful. He held his hands up in question, pointing at the roof, at the house, and waved his hands around in question.

Raphael took a deep breath in.

"Whatever you do, don't freak out," he said. Raphael turned away and then turned back. "And, I'm sorry."

He ignored Michelangelo's startled look and climbed up into the attic.

Leonardo and Cody were sitting around the small table they'd shifted into the attic for late night card games. A few slices of cake were already waiting. Leonardo was reading a book as Cody shuffled the cards.

"I brought a visitor," Raphael mumbled, indicating over his shoulder with his head.

There was a strangled sound behind Raphael—something between a sob and a gasp—and the next moment, a blur shot past as Michelangelo launched himself at his long-lost brother. He wrapped his arms around Leonardo and sobbed into his neck. Next to him, Cody was frozen in place, his hands halfway between shuffling cards, watching with wide eyes as a new intruder smothering his house guest. Raphael almost laughed.

After a moment, Leonardo, who had stiffened, tried to push Michelangelo away but his brother held on tighter. He looked to Raphael for help.

"Come on, Mikey," Raphael said. He walked over and wrestled with his brother for a second, before he was able to pull him away. Michelangelo had tears in his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Three years, Leo," he moaned. "I don't understand? What happened to you? Why are you here?"

Michelangelo turned to look at Raphael.

"Am I dreaming?" he grabbed onto Raphael's arm. "Tell me I'm not dreaming?"

Raphael shook him off.

"You're not dreaming," he said, his voice gruff. Raphael nodded at Leo. "It's him."

He looked up at Leonardo who wasn't making eye contact with either of them.

Raphael cleared his throat.

"Leonardo, this is Michelangelo. He's our youngest brother."

Leonardo looked up and slowly nodded a greeting. Michelangelo spun to face Raphael, his eyes wide.

"He has memory loss," Raphael said. "He doesn't remember us."

Michelangelo turned back to his oldest brother.

"Is this true?" he croaked.

Leonardo nodded but said nothing, still not meeting their eyes. Suddenly, Michelangelo spun back to Raphael.

"How long have you known?"

Raphael held up his hands.

"Easy. Only for a few weeks—"

"A few weeks!"

Raphael had never seen his brother so angry. It looked like Michelangelo was about to start shouting. His eyes darted from Raphael to Leonardo and finally, he seemed to notice the human in the room.

Cody spotted him watching and shakily got to his feet. It took him two tries for his greeting to carry across the short distance of the room. Michelangelo smiled but then turned back to his long-lost brother. Leonardo was sitting, clearly uncomfortable. Mikey took a step forward and again threw his arms around him.

"I missed you, Leo," he murmured. "I missed you so much."

"I'm sorry," Leonardo said, looking not at his brother but over his shoulder. "I don't remember you."

Michelangelo drew back.

"Anything?"

Leonardo shook his head.

Raphael was about to step in to stop the questioning, but didn't have to. Michelangelo smiled and simply said: "It's okay. You're back, that's all that matters."

It struck Raphael he'd never said that to Leonardo. He'd never reassured him it was okay he couldn't remember. He pushed the thought from his mind as he watched Michelangelo pull up a chair as close to Leonardo as possible.

I did something better, he thought. I actually found him.

The evening was pleasant. Michelangelo got on well with Cody, as Raphael knew he would, and they played several rounds of cards before moving to the PlayStation. They finally had four players and were able to play some of the two-on-two games. Raphael gritted his teeth when Michelangelo refused to play unless he was on Leonardo's team. It dawned on him that with telling Mikey, he'd now have to share his brother. The thought was sour to him. He'd enjoyed what little time he'd had with Leonardo, just the two of them, and now he could see it fading away.

And your opportunity to tell him what really happened on the bridge, that little voice whispered. He still doesn't know. No one knows.

He drove that voice down deep, like he always did.

Raphael watched Leonardo in case there were any signs Michelangelo was treading on sensitive territory, but their youngest brother seemed to be on his best behaviour. The longer they were there, the more Leonardo seemed to relax and when it was time to leave, Leonardo almost seemed sad to see them go.

Almost.

Michelangelo promised more than once to come back soon, and had to almost be dragged from the attic. It was only when they were outside in the darkness of the garage that Michelangelo turned to his brother. Raphael was over by the bike and was about to put on his helmet when Michelangelo spoke, his voice cutting across the night air.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us the moment you knew."

Raphael turned. His youngest brother was staring at him with a hard look to match the sharpness of his voice.

"We deserved to know," Michelangelo said. He slammed his hand into his chest plate. "I deserved to know. He's my brother too."

"Yeah? The same brother you gave up on? The same brother you buried without a body? I see you didn't mention that."

Michelangelo drew back as if Raphael had hit him.

"That's not fair," he said, the spite gone from his voice. "It had been years—"

"It had only been a year when you helped bury him," Raphael said, shoving his brother back with his free hand. "Or did you forget that part?"

"I could never forget," Michelangelo replied softly. He held his arms around him. "I have nightmares."

His brother was quiet for a moment before he mumbled. "What are we going to tell Don and Master Splinter?"

"Nothin'."

Michelangelo took in a sharp breath.

"You can't—"

"I am and I will."

"They deserve to know," Michelangelo said. He lifted his chin in defiance. "I'll tell them if you don't."

Raphael drew in a sharp breath.

"And what will that achieve? Don will want to come down here—"

"So he should!"

"And what? Leo doesn't remember him," Raphael snapped. "He doesn't remember any of us. He doesn't know us. It's been hard enough to get him to trust me and you want to throw more people at him. You don't know how hard this has been."

Raphael seized his helmet and threw it into the darkness.

"Why don't you understand? I'm doing this for him! He's scared and if we push him, he'll disappear again!"

Raphael turned away to hide his shaking. He could feel the panic in his chest rising. That feeling he had carried for years, that his brother was missing and that he would never find him was back. But now it had returned in a new form: Leonardo would learn the truth. And then Leonardo would disappear again.

"Whoa," Michelangelo held up his hands. "I'm sorry. I just…"

He trailed off.

The two brothers stood in the darkness, the only noise nearby night animals and Raphael's hard breathing.

"Okay," Michelangelo said. "Okay, I won't say anything." He took a step towards his brother and grasped his arm. "But we need to tell them, sooner rather than later. It's not fair them not knowing. And who knows, it might help Leonardo remember."

Michelangelo shook his arm.

"He can't be a secret forever."

Raphael let out a deep breath.

"He's not a secret. I'm just…"

Protecting him? Shielding him?

From what Raphael? murmured the voice in his head. What are you protecting him from exactly? The truth of what you did?

Raphael ignored the voice.

"I'm worried he'll close down on us if we push him."

"Maybe we should have a plan?" Michelangelo said. "Like a strategy or something to aim for."

"Like?"

"Short term: introduce him to Splinter and Don?" he said. "Long term: get him to come home."

Home. Never had a word sounded so sweet.

Raphael nodded. It took the brothers several minutes to find his helmet and then they took off, racing the dawn home.

xxx

Ryan had watched the two brothers from the second floor window. It looked like they were arguing. At one point, Raphael had thrown his helmet and it rolled under a large tree in the yard, making it difficult to find when they eventually started looking. Not long after, they'd ridden away.

Raphael. Michelangelo. He rolled the names over his tongue. He didn't know if they felt strange or familiar. Or were they just names and he was trying to make something out of nothing.

Leonardo.

Nothing.

Dammit.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Raphael ignores a problem and it becomes a much bigger problem**

Whether he wanted it or not, Raphael now had a tag-a-long every time he took the trip to Long Island. Leaving his brother at home was not an option, Michelangelo stuck to him like glue whenever the sun started to set, as if afraid Raphael would sneak off without him. He wouldn't lie, he'd thought about it more than once. He learnt that while Mikey was a good liar for small things, like denying pranks or pretending he didn't steal the last piece of cake; the youngest was terrible at bigger things. Things like: Our long lost brother has been living in someone's attic in Long Island for years. Also, Raphael's known for months. Oh, and he doesn't want you to know.

Raphael disappearing for hours, or days, wasn't abnormal, and he was quite adapt at ignoring probing questions as to how he spent his time. He'd put up with Leonardo for years, he was a master at it. Michelangelo wasn't. Whenever Donatello asked where they'd been all night, Michelangelo would go bright red, laugh randomly, obviously change the topic to something obscure, or do all three. He'd taken to filling any silence with needless rambling, as if to stop the prospect of unwanted questions. Raphael could see it wouldn't be long until Mikey blurted out where they'd been. He started threatening Michelangelo that he wouldn't take him to see Leo if he kept it up. That only seemed to put more pressure on his brother, and resulted in Mikey tailing him throughout the day, as if scared to let him out of his sight.

And then there was April.

He'd told her Michelangelo knew, but that only seemed to reinforce her push for him to tell everyone. She just wouldn't listen.

Leonardo still wasn't ready.

Raphael wasn't ready.

Rather than listening to April, he just no longer answered her calls, or replied to her texts.

I can't do this forever, he thought, watching his silent phone buzz one night. It had been another day being tailed by Michelangelo and in exasperation; he'd retreated to his bedroom. Yet, even there he couldn't find peace. Mikey had wandered past more than once, as if to check he was still there, and this was April's third call.

He heard Michelangelo wander past again and quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep. This time, his brother stopped in his doorway and called his name in a low voice.

Raphael ignored him.

"Raph, you awake?"

Ignore him and he'll go away. Ignore him and he'll go away. Ignore him and he'll go away.

"Raph, I-I'm going for a run."

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard his brother pad away and a moment later, the door to the sewers opened and closed.

He rolled over and stared at his bedroom wall. For a moment, he wondered if he should chase after his brother, but then he dismissed it. It wasn't like Mikey was going to sneak out to see Leonardo himself; he was terrible at directions and probably had no idea how to get to Cody's. Mikey was also a capable fighter, so a solo rooftop adventure wasn't a problem. He would let them know if he needed help. Anyway, he would probably just go for a run and maybe drop in on April.

Good, Raphael thought bitterly. They can whinge about me together.

The thought turned his stomach a little, but he clamped down on it.

How much damage can they do? he thought as another text from April lit his phone. Not for the first time, he wished it was Leo texting him. He was disappointed Leonardo hadn't reached out to him once since he'd given him the phone, and not wanting to push, he hadn't contacted him either unless absolutely necessary. It was unlikely Leonardo would contact him tonight so he reached down to turn the phone off.

He pondered the question again, but pushed it aside. His problems with Michelangelo and April could wait until the morning.

How much damage can they do? he thought again, before rolling over and falling asleep.

xxx

"Is this true?" Master Splinter said.

Raphael clenched his fists and glared at his youngest brother. He'd woken from a dreamless sleep and come down to the kitchen to find a rather furious welcome party. Splinter sat at the table, his tail thrashing from side to side. Donatello had a book in his hands but he was grasping it so hard that his veins were protruding , he could see the veins protruding. Then, there was Michelangelo.

He didn't need to hear what Michelangelo had done, it was written all over him. From the way he stood beside Splinter, his head bowed, not making Raphael's eye, to the way he was scratching at something on his arm, and seemed to wish he was anywhere but there.

You cracked, Raphael growled in his head. You little—

"Your brother came to me this morning," Master Splinter said, his voice trembling with anger. "And told me Leonardo was alive and living in Long Island. He said you have known of his whereabouts for some time and only recently shared it with Michelangelo. You also made him promise not to share this information with us—he waved his arm at himself and Donatello—and threatened him to keep quiet."

Splinter narrowed his eyes.

"Is this true, my son?"

Raphael took a deep breath. He threw another death glare at his brother before he turned to his father.

"That about sums it up."

"You bastard," Donatello said. He threw down the book he'd been holding, and marched from the room. Raphael winched as the laboratory door slammed shut with a crash loud enough to be heard in Jersey. He took a deep breath and turned to his father.

Master Splinter wasn't looking at him, because he was no longer in the room.

Michelangelo was still there though. He took a hesitant foot forward and put his hand on his brother's arm.

"Raph, I-I'm sorry. I went to see April, I just couldn't lie anymore, I couldn't, and she said—"

Raphael wrenched his arm out of his brother's grasp.

"I can't believe you," he growled. "Actually I can, you've always been a little snitch."

He drew a little pleasure as his younger brother flinched and drew away.

"Where'd Splinter go?"

"Raph-"

"Where'd. He. Go?"

Michelangelo took a shaky breath and nodded his head towards their Master's bedroom. Raphael roughly shoved past his brother and made his way over.

He found his father kneeling in front of the shrine to Leonardo. Splinter slowly reached out a shaky hand and picked up the photograph of his lost son. He looked at it for a moment before he spoke, not facing Raphael.

"He does not remember us?"

"No," Raphael said. He knelt beside his father but didn't look at him. His mind cast back to a time, not that long before, when he had knelt there and Splinter had told him to give up his searching. He clamped down on his anger.

"He has flashes and sometimes feels something should be familiar, but he doesn't remember anything before that night."

Raphael paused.

"He doesn't remember us, and he feels ill if he tries to remember. I didn't tell-"

Splinter cut him off.

"Is he well?"

"Yes," Raphael said through gritted teeth. "The human, Cody, treats him like family."

Master Splinter closed his eyes and didn't speak for a moment.

"I wish I understood why you did not tell us," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "You are my son, yet I feel at this moment as if I do not know you. You are not the only one who has suffered from your brother's disappearance."

He looked up at Raphael.

"This was a betrayal of your families trust. You hid this information from us. You made Michelangelo lie for you. And I hear April-"

Raphael cut him off.

"I was the only one that kept looking," he snapped. "While Donatello buried himself in projects, I kept searching. While Michelangelo distracted himself with anything within reach, I broke into research facilities. When Casey stopped calling and you all made me go to the farm to bury a body we didn't have, I poured my life into searching and searching and searching."

He felt like his head was going to explode and he got roughly to his feet.

"I did what I did and I won't apologise for it."

Master Splinter didn't look up. Instead, he held onto the picture frame and cradled it in his arms.

"You should not judge us so harshly. We-"

"You're judging me harshly!"

Splinter closed his eyes and didn't say anything for several moments. Eventually, he reached out and placed the frame back on the shrine.

"I want to see him," Master Splinter said. "I want to see my son."

xxx

Raphael drove. He'd made the trip enough times to do it in his sleep, and he also didn't think anyone else would be able to concentrate. A dropped pin would have echoed in the Battle Shell, and he wondered not for the first time if he should turn on the radio.

Michelangelo sat beside him, his eyes sliding across every now and again. Maybe he was trying to catch his attention but Raphael was too angry to look at him. Furious, in fact, with Michelangelo and April. He hadn't known how he was going to break the news to his family, but it certainly wouldn't have been like this. He could feel Donatello's eyes boring into the back of his head, and he was glad there was nothing within reach for his brother to throw. Master Splinter had said nothing since they'd left the lair. Nothing since the morning. Not a word.

As they turned off the highway, Michelangelo cleared his throat.

"Should I text him?"

"Already done it."

He heard Donatello move sharply in the back.

"He has a phone?"

Raphael winched.

"Yeah. Gave him one of your old Shell Cells."

He was glad he couldn't hear whatever it was Donatello was now muttering.

Raphael turned off the headlights as they pulled into the driveway, and he parked the Battle Shell behind two giant trees.

"Let's go-"

Master Splinter held up his hand.

"Have you forgotten your training? We do not know if it is safe? You will check the perimeter first."

"I've been here enough times. It's fine."

"Your lack of concern worries me. You will check the perimeter. Now."

With a sigh, Raphael got out of the truck and wondered if he should just go and leave everyone outside. Instead, Donatello and he did as they were told.

"Nothin'," he said when they returned.

He led the family around to the back and let them in, pretending to not see Splinter's disapproval when he pulled the key from his pocket. He could hear Cody in the kitchen.

"Wait here," he muttered to everyone.

The kitchen was a mess. Dirty bowls lined the counter and flour had been spilt at some point. Cody was muttering furiously to himself, his head in the fridge. Knowing better than to startle him, Raphael loudly cleared his throat. Cody smacked his head on the fridge shelf anyway.

"You're here! Already!" he said. Raphael could see his hands were shaking. "I wasn't sure what your family would like to eat so I made some biscuits, but then I thought they mightn't like biscuits so I dug some cake out of the fridge, but then I didn't know if they'd liked left-over pound cake so I quickly made a simple cake and-"

Raphael held up his hands.

"It's fine. Where's Leo?"

Cody picked up the dish towel and started twisting it in his hands. He lowered his voice.

"He's not happy," Cody said, casting his eye over his shoulder. "I don't think he was ready for this. I think you should have waited-"

"I didn't have a choice," Raphael snapped. He then took a deep breath. It wasn't Cody's fault and the poor guy had enough to worry about. He repeated his question.

"In the formal dining room."

Raphael raised an eyebrow. Cody shrugged but it was more of a jerk.

"We have guests. It's a formal occasion…" he trailed off.

Well, this is going to be awkward.

Raphael held out his hand to hold open the kitchen door.

"Come meet the family."

"But, I need to ice the-"

Raphael grabbed Cody and pulled him out of the room.

Raphael had to hand it to Cody. He didn't scream when he saw Splinter. His eyes barely twitched. A giant rat stood in his house, surrounded by giant mutant turtles, who all bowed when he walked in, and he didn't seem phased. Yet, people coming over for a late night visit and save us! We don't have enough cake.

Master Splinter bowed lowest.

"I believe you are Mr Cody," he looked the man up and down. "Thank you for caring for my son."

Cody smiled, or at least tried too.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Soda? Water?"

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Master Splinter shook his head.

"I only wish to see my son."

Cody wrung his hands.

"Of course. Yes, that's why you came, didn't you. Ryan-he cleared his throat, his eyes darting-I mean, Leo, umm, Leonardo is in the formal dining room."

He held out his hand.

"This way."

Leonardo was sitting at a table heaped with food. Biscuits, the two cakes Cody had mentioned, but also some tarts. Cody must have been cooking since Leonardo received the text.

Raphael had a quick look at his brother as he came through the door. 'Not happy' was an understatement. Leonardo had his arms crossed in front of him, a deep scowl on his face, and looked like he wished to be anywhere but there. He'd stacked the food in such a way that it looked like he was trying to hide behind it. He slowly got to his feet.

Raphael had wildly hoped that seeing his father and Donatello might trigger something in Leonardo, but the blank look remained on his face. Leonardo's eyes roamed over his father and Donatello, before turning to glare at Raphael, as if this was his fault.

Master Splinter broke the silence first.

"My son…"

He took a few hesitant steps before slowly reaching out to take Leonardo's face in his hands.

"I'm sorry," Leonardo muttered, "I don't remember you."

Master Splinter smiled and let his face go.

"That is okay, my son," he said, his voice heavy. "You are alive. That is all that matters."

Leonardo then looked over his shoulder. Donatello took a few steps forward before slowly clasping his brother in a brief hug, which Leonardo did not return.

"I brought you something," Donatello said, his voice shaking. He turned and dug through his bag. "It's a photo album. We didn't have much access to cameras growing up but it's everything we had."

Raphael took a seat at the opposite end of the table from his family, and didn't take part in the stilted conversation. Michelangelo tried to put in some humour, as if they were having a party, but even that felt forced. Donatello and Master Splinter walked Leo through the photo album; talking about past Christmas's and pointing out images of Casey's farm, but Raphael could see they were disappointed every time a funny anecdote didn't garner a reaction. Leonardo was as blank and empty as a stranger.

"Sit down, Cody," Raphael growled. Cody had been rushing from the dining room to the kitchen since they'd arrived, making sure everyone had something to eat and drink. Cody went to walk past but Raphael grabbed his arm and dragged him into a seat. He pushed a slice of cake in front of him. "And eat something."

Cody laughed nervously.

"We'll be eating all of this for the next week," he said, indicating the food mountain on the table.

"You need to relax," Raphael muttered. He glanced at his youngest brother who was helping himself to everything on the table. "And stop feeding Mikey."

Cody glanced at Leonardo. Donatello was pointing something out to him in the album, but Leonardo had the same level of interest as someone watching paint dry.

"How's he doing?" Raphael asked, his voice low. Cody looked up and he fixed his eyes on him. "Really?"

Cody's eyes slid from Raphael to Leonardo and back.

"He's getting frustrated. He says it's like there is a block on his memories and the more he fights to get them back, the more the wall rises."

Cody looked away.

"Like I said, I don't think he was ready for this."

Raphael sighed. He looked at his brother again and hoped this family intervention was not going to be something they all regretted.

xxx

Donatello closed the album and Raphael knew it was his cue. "It's time we left," he said. He ignored the angry look Donatello directed at him but noted Leonardo's relieved one.

"Would you like to take something home-"

"No."

"Yes!"

Raphael glared at his younger brother. Michelangelo looked sheepish but Cody jumped at the chance, grabbing plates and heading to the kitchen to pack take-away boxes.

For one of the first times that night, the Hamato family were alone with Leonardo.

"My son," Master Splinter said. He reached out his hand and grasped his sons. "I have no words to express how good it has been to see you after so long."

Leonardo said nothing in reply, but their father was not done.

"I hope you will come and visit us in the future," Splinter said.

"Yes," Donatello nodded. "It might help with your memories."

Raphael flinched. He knew they'd touched a nerve. Leonardo's face hardened, but no one else seemed to be paying attention.

"I'll do some reading when I get back home," Donatello continued. "If you can tell me some of your symptoms, and anything you do that helps you remember, I'm sure we can get you back to normal."

Leonardo's face darkened.

"Normal?" he asked, his voice sharp.

"Well, with your memories back-"

"And what if this is what I am. What if this is my normal?"

"Well, we won't know until we try-"

Leonardo's eyes flashed and his voice rose higher.

"Try? Try! What do you think I have been doing all these years! I have been trying!"

Donatello drew back.

"I'm sure you were but now with our help-"

"You think you'll somehow make this all better? You'll make me remember everything? That I need your help to fix me?"

Leonardo rounded on Raphael.

"I told you not to push. I told you I wasn't ready."

Raphael narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't want this, but I didn't have a choice either," he said, watching as Michelangelo looked everywhere but at him.

"Your brother did the wrong thing," Master Splinter said, his voice firm. "Raphael should have told us."

"What about me? This isn't what I wanted. I'm sorry I'm a disappointment but if I can't remember, I don't see how photo albums and stories are going to help," Leonardo said, and he shoved the photo album across the table.

Raphael got to his feet.

"It's time we left," he repeated. He walked around and pulled Michelangelo roughly to his feet.

Master Splinter reached for his sons hand again.

"My son, we did not wish to upset you-"

Leonardo wrenched his arm out of his father's grasp.

"Raphael's right, it's time you leave."

No one said anything for a moment. Donatello looked upset but Master Splinter looked like there was more he wanted to say.

"Please reconsider. We just want-"

"And what about what I want?" Leonardo hissed. He turned his back. "I want you to leave. Now."

Master Splinter lowered his head.

"Very well, my son."

They were almost out the door when Cody caught up to them with a couple of boxes of cakes and biscuits. Master Splinter thanked him for his hospitality but his heart wasn't in it. They all slowly climbed back into the Battle Shell. As Michelangelo got in, Raphael lent over.

"I hope you're happy," he muttered. "Real great family reunion."

Raphael started the engine, listening to the engine roar. As much as he didn't want to, he turned the Battle Shell around and headed back to New York; trying to ignore the glistering of tears on his father's face and the question pounding around his head: How much damage had this visit done?


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Contact is lost, and Raphael doesn't know what to do.**

Raphael was living in a nightmare. He hadn't heard from his brother since the disastrous trip out to Long Island. Leonardo wasn't answering his phone or replying to any of his texts. His only option was ringing Cody's house, and that wasn't successful either.

xxx

"I'm sorry," Cody said. His voice was barely louder than a whisper, as if he didn't want anyone to know he was on the phone. "But Ryan, sorry, Leo doesn't want to talk to you. He doesn't want to talk to any of you. He just wants to be left alone."

"Is he alright?" Raphael said, a heavy weight starting to rest on his chest.

"No, not really. He's having nightmares, and won't come out of the attic. This has really messed him up."

"Just tell him I had nothing to do with it," Raphael stressed. He was gripping the phone so hard he wondered if it would break. "This is April and Mikey's fault, not mine."

"I can try but I don't think he'll care. He's really angry. He, oh, sorry Raphael, I have to go."

"Wait, Cody! Cody! WAIT!"

The line dropped and no one answered when he rang back.

xxx

It was a few days before Raphael got Cody on the phone again. He didn't seem to get through with his Shell Cell or the lair's phone, so he scrounged some coins together and used a payphone on the surface. He felt terribly exposed in the payphone box and thought he'd freeze to death, but was rewarded when Cody finally answered. He all but begged Cody to get Leonardo to talk to him. It hadn't worked that time either.

xxx

"You need to stop calling," Cody said, his voice unnaturally firm. "I think you're making it worse. Give him some space."

xxx

That was the last thing Raphael wanted to do, yet it didn't seem like he had many options. He no longer had a mode of transport out to Long Island.

In the aftermath of the terrible family meeting, Master Splinter, backed by Donatello, seemed to rest all blame on Raphael. They'd had a massive argument; all three yelling while Michelangelo sat huddled on the sofa.

… If you had just told us earlier about Leonardo, we could have been better prepared …

… If you had not lied, we would have had a better plan to meet your brother. We would not have pushed …

… If you had just …

Splinter's punishment was forbidding him from going back to Long Island.

xxx

"We will give your brother space if he does not want to see us," his father had said. "Let him come to us."

Raphael ignored him.

"You can't stop me going to Long Island!" he'd shouted before storming to his room. What could Splinter do anyway?

xxx

He'd underestimated his father's, or at least his brainy brother's, cunning.

The next evening, Raphael went to the garage intent on riding out to Long Island, only to find his motorcycle in pieces. Not smashed, but it had been meticulously taken apart, piece by piece, until all that was left was the frame. He knew it would be a massive task to put it back together. He'd then got in the Battle Shell, but knew instantly from the way the motor wouldn't turn over that something was wrong with the engine.

In a blind panic, Raphael cast around for other options. Casey was still out of town. He rung April but she must have been warned because she didn't answer her phone. After the way he had treated her recently, Raphael doubted she would have given him a ride anywhere.

He could steal a car but what would happened if he was caught, or if it was traced to Cody's house? Could he make it if he walked? He dismissed that. Even in summer, he didn't think he'd be able to walk or roller-skate to Long Island in a night. In winter? He'd freeze. It was then he realised he had no option.

He was stuck in New York.

Raphael's rage was formidable to witness. Alone in the garage, he smashed and shouted and hurled things across the space.

This isn't fair! he screamed into his head. This. Isn't. Fair!

He had no idea how long it would take Leonardo to forgive them, if he even would. And if he didn't have a way to contact him, what could he do? Raphael felt like he was drowning, drowning in a dark abyss of his own making, and he wondered how long it would be until he hit the bottom.

xxx

Raphael was lying in his hammock, staring blankly at his bedroom ceiling. It was only five in the afternoon, but he was already in bed. He was doing nothing with his days, yet was exhausted. It was all the thinking, the same thought going over and over in his mind: When would Leonardo contact them?

Six weeks. Six weeks without one word. Cody occasionally sent him small updates, but they were little more than assurances his brother was alive.

Leo's doing better.

He's not as angry but still upset.

Leo's fine.

Leonardo's eating.

He still doesn't want to talk to anyone.

He's doing better.

Christmas had come and gone. New Year too. Not one word.

Christmas had been torture. There was this feeling in the air, the hope that Leonardo might contact them. He hadn't, and it wasn't possible the family had ever had a more miserable holiday. Raphael couldn't face that again. When New Year rolled around, he made sure he was blind drunk and passed out by 3pm; spending New Year's Day terribly hung over and vomiting. He hadn't drunk like that in a long time and he wondered if he'd done any damage. He didn't care.

It was like Leonardo was missing again, but it was worse this time. Leonardo wasn't missing. They'd found him, and then lost him again. This time, he didn't want to be found.

Raphael gazed over at the shelves of his research; the product of years of searching for his brother.

All that work, for what? he thought miserably.

Raphael barely stirred when he heard his phone buzz. It was probably just another useless update from Cody. He knew Cody meant well and it did help to know someone was looking after his brother, yet it was like a knife to the stomach every time he received one. All he wanted to know was when he could see his brother.

He doubted it was April. Raphael had called her only once since Long Island, and that was just to make sure she knew everything that had happened. How everything had gone wrong.

How everything was her and Mikey's fault.

He'd hung up before she could say anything, and ignored any calls and text since. She hadn't been around for Christmas or New Year.

Raphael had taken to swallowing a couple of sleeping tablets each night to ensure dreamless sleep. As if he didn't have enough to worry about, his nightmares had come back.

The alleyway. The bridge. The fight. His brother falling. Reaching for him. His brother disappearing into the night.

But now, there was another nightmare.

Raphael would stand at the backdoor of the house in Long Island, but no matter how hard he pounced on the door, or how loud he screamed—no one was there. No one ever answered.

He could feel the tablets pulling on his conscious and with a sigh, decided to check his phone before they claimed him with dreamless sleep.

Picking it up off the floor, he nearly dropped it again. The text was from Leonardo.

L: When are you coming over?

A thousand thoughts thundered through his mind. Why now? Was everything okay? Raphael decided he didn't care for the why, as long as Leo was texting. His hands were shaking as he replied.

R: I dont know. Splinter wont let me leave the lair.

That wasn't strictly true. Splinter had taken away any form of transport; he hadn't exactly stopped him from leaving.

Raphael cursed. He hadn't had the energy or patience to put his motorcycle back together, and now he didn't have it when he needed it most. The Battle Shell was back together, they weren't going to leave that out of commission for long, but he knew Donatello had hidden the keys. He gritted his teeth and continued.

R: Bikes in pieces. Tried but no other transport options.

He thought for a moment and added a little at the end before sending.

R: How are you?

He waited on tenterhooks wondering whether Leonardo would reply. A few moments later, his phone buzzed again.

L: Not as angry as I was.

Raphael felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

He'd take 'not as angry'. He'd take anything at the moment.

Raphael suddenly had an idea and not wanting to lose this communication channel with his brother, he text back.

R: You could come to us?

His mind suddenly went into overload. What was he thinking? He knew Cody could drive but how well? What if they had a car accident? What if they were pulled over by the police? His phone buzzed again.

L: I don't think that is a good idea.

Why not! he wanted to shout, but at the same time, it was a relief. It also meant he only had one option.

R: Ill fix my bike tomorrow and come over.

He paused for a moment before adding.

R: If thats okay?

He waited, almost holding his breath until his phone buzzed again.

L: Okay.

He threw the phone down onto the floor and quickly rolled over, shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep. He needed as much sleep as he could get. Tomorrow, he had a motorcycle to fix.

xxx

Fixing the motorcycle didn't take as long as Raphael expected.

Lucky Don's meticulous, he thought, picking up the spanner and tightening a nut. And neat.

Donatello wasn't like him. If Raphael had pulled a motorcycle apart in malice, he'd have mixed the pieces and scattered them across the garage. Instead, his brother had placed all the pieces into small boxes. He also had a system and when Raphael finally figured it out, it was almost like putting a jigsaw puzzle together. By the end of the day, as the sun was starting to set, Raphael wiped his hands on a rag and looked at his reconstructed motorcycle. It had been a rushed job and he hoped he didn't need to break hard on the journey out. Regardless, as soon as the sun set, he was gone.

He hadn't told his family Leonardo had been in contact. He didn't trust them. He'd disappeared into the garage as soon as he woke. Surely they knew he was fixing his bike, but he doubted they knew how far along he was. Or how fast he was working. Anyway, now it was fixed, he wasn't letting it out of his sight. That morning, he brought his winter riding kit up to the garage so he could change without going back down to the lair.

Donatello, the year before, had installed a shower up in the garage. He'd just finished washing the grime off when he heard the slow rattle of the Utron elevator rumbling upwards. He cast around quickly. He couldn't hide the motorcycle, but he stashed his kit behind a couple of boxes as the doors opened.

Michelangelo walked hesitantly into the garage. Raphael and his brother had barely spoken since Long Island, and Mikey looked nervous. He cast his eyes from the motorcycle to Raphael, who was standing stiffly against a workbench.

"What do you want?" Raphael snapped.

His brother flinched and when he spoke, he didn't look at him.

"We know what you're doing," he mumbled.

"What am I doing?"

Michelangelo waved his hand vaguely towards the roof.

"You forgot the cameras."

Raphael bared his teeth. He had forgotten. Anyone who had checked the feed throughout the day, which they all occasionally did, would have seen what he was up too. Given how fast he was working, it wouldn't take a genius to work out what had happened, and where he was planning to go. They would have also seen his kit.

No point hiding now, he thought.

"Good luck stopping me, I'm going," he said, reaching down into his kit and pulling out his jacket. "Just try and stop me."

Michelangelo slowly shook his head.

"I'm not here to stop you. Splinter wasn't happy, but he said you should go. He's been worried about Leonardo, since we haven't heard from him for so long. I-I won't ask you to take me with you. I-I know you won't take me. I just wanted to…"

He looked away from this brother.

"I'm sorry for what happened. Splinter said I did the right thing, but I don't think so. You were right, Leo wasn't ready. We pushed and look what happened."

The silence stretched for a moment before Michelangelo spoke.

"It's like it was all a dream, finding Leo. But now he's gone again. I haven't heard from him in weeks. I know he's ignoring me, he has a right too, but it's like he's gone and I, I know it's my fault."

Michelangelo looked up at his brother.

"When you see him, can you tell him I'm sorry? A-and I want to see him, when he's ready."

Raphael watched his brother for a moment. Michelangelo looked small and miserable. He was struck by the thought of saying 'no'. It would make Raphael feel better, but then he thought how much he wished someone could have told him that it was okay what had happened between him and Leonardo on the rooftop. It was okay about, afterwards. What Michelangelo had been feeling was nothing compared to what Raphael had felt all those years, and he didn't want his brother to suffer like he had.

He nodded stiffly. Casting his eyes out towards the street, he could see darkness fast approaching. It was time to go.

He straddled the bike and kicked it to start, ignoring the splutter that hadn't been there before.

You just need to get me to Long Island, he murmured in his head. You need to hold together until then. Just get me to Long Island.

Raphael internal mumbling was broken when his brother handed him his helmet. Locking it in place, he was surprised when Michelangelo then handed him a small package.

"It's some Japanese snacks," his brother shouted over the roar of the engine. "Master Splinter didn't want you to go empty-handed, and he said they were Leonardo's favourite."

Raphael rolled his eyes. He shoved them into his backpack and with a brief wave; he took off into the fast approaching night.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Raphael walks in the snow and then skates on thinning ice.**

Raphael had to push his motorcycle, slipping constantly on the icy roads, the last hundred metres to Cody's house. His bike had shuddered and spluttered the whole way, but luckily had only given up when Cody's house was almost in sight.

Raphael didn't care. He'd made it.

What he did care about was the cold leeching its way up through his wet riding boots, making it feel like they were burning. A bitter cold wind had started to blow, and he was shaking violently by the time he parked his bike in the garage.

"Just a little further," he muttered, hugging his arms around him, trying to save a bit of warmth.

Bright moonlight was his only guide as he stumbled over to the back door, his breath turning to fog. He could feel himself starting to freeze, and he fumbled for the keys in his pocket.

"Dammit," he muttered, as he dropped them in the snow. He glanced around for a moment but couldn't find them.

"Dammit!"

He knew it was only a short amount of time before he was in serious trouble. He could already feel his thoughts becoming sluggish. He raised his fist and pounded on the door.

"Cody!" he shouted, his voice muffled in the cold. "Cody! Let me in!"

He hammered again, his hand stinging in the cold. It felt like forever before he heard movement and the door opened.

"Did you forget your key—Raphael!"

He didn't wait for Cody to invite him, but barged in.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"C-cold. N-Need to w-warm u-up."

"There's a fire in the living room," Cody said, his eyes wide.

"W-Which o-one is th-that?"

"That way," Cody said, pointing off to the right through a closed door Raphael had never been through. "I'll get you some blankets and towels."

"T-Thanks."

Raphael stumbled into the table before angling himself towards the lounge room. Luckily the door was open, he didn't think his hands would work well on the handles at the moment, and he found himself in a plush room. An antique coffee table, something April would carry in her store, sat in the middle, surrounded by a lounge with two matching chairs. The room was decorated with family photos; some in black and white while more recent ones were in colour.

He didn't care. Off to one side, a large roaring fire was crackling in the brick fireplace and Raphael threw himself in that direction. It was throwing out a lot of heat and he sat as close to the open flame as he could bear.

He heard the door open behind him, and Cody came in holding a stack of towels and what appeared to be some clothing.

"W-Where's L-Leo?"

"He'll be down in a minute," Cody said. He indicated the clothing. "He grabbed something dry for you to change into."

Cody left the room and Raphael quickly took off his wet riding gear. Slipping on human clothing wasn't something he was used too, and the shaking certainly didn't help, but he managed in the end. He'd only just pulled the jumper on the right way when the door opened.

Leonardo didn't look any different from when Raphael had last seen him. His brother hovered on the edge of the room before slowly walking over.

"H-Hey," Raphael said, his teeth chattered violently.

Leonardo nodded in greeting.

"It just came out of the dryer, and is still warm," he said, handing his brother a blanket before taking a seat on the lounge.

Between the fire, the human clothing, and the warm blanket; Raphael was finally starting to feel like he was warming up. He looked up to find his brother watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Cody's making you something hot to drink," Leonardo said.

Now he was there, Raphael didn't know what to say. How are you? What have you been doing? When are you coming home?

As if also wanting to fill the silence, Leonardo cleared his throat.

"We don't usually come in here," he said. "But it's been so cold in the attic that I've been sleeping down here."

He indicated his head and Raphael spotted a bedroll and sheets nicely folded in the corner. A small stack of books sat nearby.

Raphael nodded.

"I-It's been c-cold in the sewers but Donnie's p-pretty good with heating."

The brothers lapsed into silence again.

"I'm s-sorry what h-happened," Raphael said in a rush. "You weren't ready, t-they know that now. It w-wasn't my fault."

Leonardo wasn't looking at him but at the couch. He was tracing his finger along the pattern.

"I know," he murmured. "It must be hard for them to understand."

He paused for a moment and then continued.

"I was pretty angry but then after a while…"

He cleared his throat.

"I missed the company."

Raphael smiled. That was worth a drive out to Long Island in the snow any day. It was the first time Leonardo had said anything to that effect.

As if embarrassed, his brother cleared his throat.

"How is everyone?"

Raphael filled him in on the lair's coming-and-goings; which wasn't much. Not a lot had happened outside a general feeling of misery about their current family situation, though he didn't mention that part. He was about finished when Cody came in with a tray of biscuits, cake, and a pot of tea.

Raphael rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to go to all this effort every time I come over," he growled.

"My grandma's favourite saying was: 'Guests are like royalty and should be treated as such,'" Cody said, a smile on his face.

"That reminds me," Raphael muttered. His fingers were more receptive to his instructions and it only took two tries to get the zipper on his bag open.

"Splinter sent these," he said, placing the box on the table and not looking at his brother. "They're Japanese treats."

"Oh, please send him my regards—"

"Shut up, Cody."

xxx

The evening passed quickly. They sat and talked. Before long, Raphael felt like he was melting next to the fire and took one of the vacant seats. He tried not to feel pangs of jealousy as Cody and Leonardo spoke about their Christmas and New Year. It sounded like they had a tradition of sneaking out to see the Christmas lights people strung up. Apart from the terrifying thought that Cody was driving his brother around on frozen streets, it hurt to know while the family were miserable, Leonardo was enjoying himself. He tried not to show how much this annoyed him and decided he wanted to change topics. Unfortunately, he didn't think about what he was asking.

"Why don't you come home for a night?"

Raphael froze. He hadn't meant to say that, he didn't even realise he'd been thinking it, but hearing his brother talk so animatedly about sneaking out with a friend to go light watching, something similar to what the brothers always did in the lead up to Christmas, made him do it.

Leonardo looked a little startled and several emotions flickered across his face. Cody was looking at Raphael with wide eyes, flicking between the two brothers, as if waiting for an explosion to go off.

HE. ONLY. JUST. STARTED. TALKING. TO. YOU. AGAIN, his internal voice screamed. WHY. DID. YOU. ASK. HIM. THAT!?

Images of Master Splinter and Donatello asking very similar questions flashed through his mind, and he couldn't decide whether to apologise, or wait to see what Leonardo said.

Wanting to break the tension in the room, he reached forward and grabbed another biscuit. The sound of his munching echoed in the silence.

Leonardo was quiet for a few moments before he surprised everyone when he spoke.

"I'll think about it."

Leonardo then excused himself, mentioning something about the bathroom.

Cody turned to Raphael as soon as the door closed behind him.

"What were you thinking?" Cody said, his eyes still wide. "He only just started talking to you, you only just got here, you, he, your family…." He didn't seem to be able to get the words out.

"I wasn't thinking," Raphael snapped. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. Leonardo hadn't reacted badly and he said he'd "think about it". That was more than last time. Maybe his time away from family had changed his tune?

"Anyway," Raphael said, clamping down on a grin that was threatening to break out over his face. "It's Splinter's birthday in a few weeks, he'd love to see him."

He nearly added it had been years since all Master Splinter's sons celebrated his birthday together, but decided against it.

He turned to Cody.

"Can you just talk to him—"

"No way," Cody said, shaking his head. "This one is on you. You need to leave me out of it."

Raphael narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. They made small talk until Leonardo returned but everyone was a little tense. To save everyone, Raphael decided it was time to leave and said his goodbyes. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

"Come on," Raphael snarled, twisting the key. The bike didn't even turn over. The battery was dead but thinking back to his journey, he didn't think that was the only problem. He gave his bike a good kick yet it did nothing but hurt his foot. He cursed a few more times for good measure and then slowly made his way back up to the house.

Wondering what his reception would be, he walked up to the back door, only to find Cody standing there waiting.

"Problems?"

"Bike won't start," Raphael said, jerking his hand angrily over his shoulder. "You don't mind if I crashed the night?"

Cody smiled and without a word, let him back into the house.

"I'll get some blankets; you probably should share with Leo. It's a lot warmer with the fire."

Raphael nodded, and headed for the lounge room. More than ever he felt like he was overstaying his welcome. When he pushed open the door, he found his brother already in bed. Leonardo put the book he was reading down.

"Bike won't start," Raphael mumbled, not meeting his brother's eyes. "Don't mind if I crash here?"

Leonardo shook his head.

Not long after, Cody brought in a couple of blankets. He was about to make a bed for 'his guest' on the floor, but Raphael grabbed the blankets.

"I can do it myself," he muttered. Damn Cody and his politeness.

Cody wished them goodnight and left them alone.

Leonardo watched quietly as his brother laid out the bedding. Wanting to break the silence, Raphael said the only thing that came to his head.

"I don't usually sleep on the floor," he muttered.

"Oh?"

"Nah, got a hammock."

Leonardo lay back for a moment, as if thinking.

"That, that makes sense."

Raphael stopped and looked at his brother. Leonardo looked surprised himself before shrugging.

"I don't know, I just feel that, that you're telling the truth."

Raphael didn't know what to say so he climbed into bed. It was pleasant enough under the blankets on the carpet, and the fire gave the room a nice warm feel. He could already feel himself starting to drift off.

"I snore too."

Leonardo groaned.

"Why am I not surprised."

xxx

It took two nights for Raphael to fix his bike. It took him most of the first night just to figure out what was wrong, and then write a part list for Cody to fetch when the sun rose and the stores opened. The second night, he had to put the bike back together, which wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Cody let him use the large garage so he could work away from prying eyes and as an added bonus, Leonardo kept him company.

He tossed up whether he should delay his project; make it take longer than it actually did. Neither Cody nor Leonardo knew one end of the bike from the other, and he was sure if he said the rear-wheel-hub-cap-lever-alternator-timing-belt-stand was broken; they'd believe him. But he didn't want to overstay his welcome. Also, a thought had been niggling at the back of his mind.

Maybe Master Splinter was right. What do they say? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Raphael didn't deny Leonardo had been furious after what happened the last time everyone had visited, but maybe, not having contact with his family had been a 'good' thing. Good was a stretch but it got him thinking.

Maybe not seeing his family for a while was the only way to get Leonardo to come home?

As Raphael grabbed his bike, a thought came to him.

"I don't know when I'll be able to come back," he said, noting how his brother's head snapped around to look at him. He knew he was on to something, but kept his face emotionless.

"Why not?"

Raphael shrugged but kept pushing his bike out of the garage.

"Got to check the bike—"

"You just fixed the bike."

Raphael shrugged again.

"It's a patch job—that was a lie, his bike was in the best condition it had ever been as Cody refused to buy anything but new parts—It'll get me home but I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I need to do a thorough check."

He heard Leonardo huff behind him. He quickly put his helmet on to hide the smile growing across his face. Raphael wanted to say something about him coming home for a visit, but knew his brother would probably see through that. Instead, he flipped his visor up.

"It's been great seeing you."

Leonardo nodded but said nothing.

Wanting to stay but knowing that wasn't going to help, he flipped his visor down, gave half a wave, and then took off back to New York.

He didn't return for five days.

Raphael didn't share his plan with his family. He did report Leonardo was fine, but they were all surprised when he said he wasn't going back for a while. It was at that point he looked straight at his father. Master Splinter watched him with a curious expression and though he wasn't going to admit his father had been right, he knew from the way Splinter nodded that he knew Raphael knew. Or something like that.

When he did visit again, as much as he didn't want to, he made himself leave much earlier than he would have in the past. Before, he'd squeezed every last second out of a visit. Now, he stayed for a few hours and then, ignoring Leonardo's disappointed face, would leave, stating he wasn't sure when he'd be back.

It was like roles had been reversed. Now Raphael was getting the texts.

Is the bike fixed? What's wrong with it?

When are you coming next?

Is Mikey joining you?

Can you bring more of those snacks?

He'd also learnt something from seeing his brother again after such a long time apart. Leonardo hadn't completely shut down when he'd cut contact with his family. Sure, he might've in the beginning but after a while, he'd shut the anger off about them and just went on living his life in Long Island. Raphael and his family were so wrapped up in finding their lost brother and son, everything had stopped. He didn't think anything was wrong with what they had done, but all the same, you couldn't know what you were missing if you weren't missing anything—and Leonardo wasn't missing anything. Raphael and his family had done nothing together in a long time. He had nothing to share when he went to visit, except for small training anecdotes, but largely there was nothing because he had nothing to do with his family. They didn't do anything together anymore.

This occurred to him one night as he sat in his room. He'd made himself promise he wouldn't go and see Leonardo until the weekend—two days away—and suddenly he had an idea of how to fill some of the time.

Getting to his feet, he wandered down into the lair and found his little brother watching cartoons. They still hadn't really spoken since their chat in the garage and Michelangelo watched him warily.

Raphael took a deep breath.

"Want to go throw snowballs in the park?"

Michelangelo blinked for a second as if he didn't believe what he had heard.

"What? Really?"

Raphael nodded. He waited for a few seconds as the idea slowly sunk into Mikey's brain.

"Awesome! We haven't done this for ages!" He jumped up and raced to his room. "I'll get Don!"

Raphael gritted his teeth. He hadn't meant for them all to go, yet it was worth watching a little flicker of jealousy in Leonardo eyes when he told him at his next visit about how much fun they'd had in Central Park. The snowball fights. Racing each other through the snow. He didn't mention how tense Donatello and he were around each other, or how hard he made every snowball he ditched at his brother. Or how much blood had poured from his own nose when one of Donatello's own compacted snowballs collided with him. No, only happy memories. Fun memories. Half-truth memories.

He sometimes wondered if now was a good time to tell his brother what had happened on the rooftops. On the bridge. About…

You have to tell him sometime, one voice whispered in his ear. He'll find out eventually.

Why now? You'll ruin everything, the other voice hissed. Shut up.

He pushed both warring sides into the back of his mind to fester.

Michelangelo joined him for a few visits. His younger brother's excitement would have fuelled a city for a year, and Leonardo seemed to enjoy himself as well. Donatello made the journey out twice as well, travelling in the sidecar. He was quite reserved and seemed nervous, not wanting to upset Leonardo. Nothing serious happened and they muddled on.

Master Splinter didn't join them, but he would wait up until the early hours of the morning just to hear news of his son.

Raphael raised the possibility of Leonardo coming to the lair every few visits. His hopes at "I'll think about it" had given away to a realisation Leonardo used that as a dodge. "I'll think about it" meant nothing.

One visit, as the game credits rolled, Raphael looked sideways at Leonardo. He hadn't asked for awhile, but Splinter's birthday was looming on the horizon and it almost became a marker. He felt that if he didn't get Leonardo to come home for something like that, he'd never get him home.

"Why don't you want to come to the lair?"

Leonardo groaned.

"I, I just don't want to."

Raphael had visited enough to know when there were topics to drop and others to push. Leonardo was giving all the indication of a topic he wanted dropped, but he wasn't buying it this time.

"Mikey wants to see you, Don too," he said. "And it's Master Splinter's birthday next week."

None of them knew the actual date of their birthdays but it was the day Splinter had chosen for himself. He wasn't big into celebrating his birthday; he more enjoyed having a meal with his sons and their new friends.

What better gift then having a son returned?

Raphael waited with bated breath. Leonardo looked away.

"I'll think about it."

It was Raphael's turn to groan. He'd had enough of "I'll think about it". It almost made his blood boil and he knew if he didn't leave, he might say something he'd regret later. He got to his feet.

"I'm going."

Leonardo sat up straighter in his chair.

"You only just got here?"

It was a half-truth. He'd been there for a little over two hours, and even with him leaving earlier than usual – this was quite early.

"Yeah, well, I got stuff to do."

It was a lie, but he realised he didn't care. He just wanted to leave. Leave his brother. Leave that house. Leave Long Island. Leave the situation.

He clasped Leonardo on the shoulder briefly—"Catch ya later"—and without another word, he walked out.

Raphael let him "think about it" over the next few days. He decided giving his brother some space might help, so he didn't see Leonardo in the week leading up to the 'party'. It wasn't a party per se but for four turtles and a rat that rarely left the lair and had never been to a party, it was one of the biggest nights of the year. As the day drew closer and there was no word from his brother, he wondered if it would be another birthday without their brother.

The night before Splinters birthday, Raphael was tossing and turning in his hammock when his phone buzzed. He reached down to pick it off the floor from where he'd dropped it earlier, and couldn't help the excitement at seeing a new message.

L: Can Cody come?

He gritted his teeth. Of course Leo wanted his new friend to join him. Ideas of a purely family event slowly disappeared but he hung onto one fact—Leonardo was considering coming. He was finally coming home.

R: sure.

He kept the phone in his hand as he waited for a reply. How would they bring their new guest? They couldn't all fit on his bike. Should he take the Battle Shell? His phone buzzed again.

L: Cody said he will drive. What's the address?

Raphael gripped the phone hard.

How well did Cody drive? What was the car like? He tried to picture it, but it had been awhile since he'd caught a glimpse. But that wasn't his biggest worry.

What if Cody had an accident with Leonardo in the car? Raphael ignored the part of his mind that said this was not the first time Cody and his brother had made the journey into New York. This was different though, they knew he was alive. There was a reason the Battle Shell had tinted windows, and that he wore a complete motorcycle kit. They didn't travel in the trailer when they went to the farm because they enjoyed it. The only way they survived was to remain hidden.

He had sudden images of Leonardo sitting in the front seat of Cody's car with his arm out the window, admiring the view as he drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, with all the other cars and their occupants craning to get a good look.

Not going to happen, he thought.

He was dialling Leonardo's number before he realised what he was doing.

"Hello?"

Just hearing his brother's voice was reassuring.

"I'll come and get you," he said around gritted teeth. "Both of you."

He heard Leonardo adjust himself on the bed.

"That's not necessary. It's a long way to come. Cody's already said he'll drive. He's a safe driver."

"It's not his driving that worries me," Raphael said, partially lying through his teeth. "There are other considerations."

"Like?"

Raphael paused.

"What if he has an accident?"

Leo chuckled.

"Have you seen the way you drive?"

"What if you are stopped? What if you have to get out of the car?"

Leonardo paused and Raphael could tell this thought hadn't crossed his brother's mind. His worry increased tenfold. These kinds of issues were never a concern with Leonardo before because, well, he was Leonardo. Now, it was like dealing with a small child. All the worries and concerns they'd grown up with, it was like he was relearning them.

Leonardo finally spoke.

"We'll be careful," he said. "I'll wear the winter clothing I wore last time and keep my head down. It'll be night time as well—"

"I think it would be better if I came and got you—"

"I think it might be better if I just didn't come."

Leonardo had out-manoeuvred him. He could already feel his heart beating wildly at the thought that Leonardo was not going to visit. Raphael threw caution to the wind.

"Fine, fine. But tell Cody if he gets into trouble, he calls me right away." Raphael knew where he would be waiting all afternoon—by his motorbike, helmet on, ready to go at a moment's notice.

Leonardo was quiet and Raphael wondered if Leo had hoped he'd give him an out. That he would insist on driving out to get them and then Leonardo could say no. Best to get off the phone before anything else was said.

"I'll text you the address."

He didn't wait for Leonardo to reply and hung up. He pushed his hand out and pushed himself off the wall, letting his hammock swing him backwards and forwards for a while. Finally, after all these years; Leonardo was returning. Leonardo was coming home.

Before putting the phone down, he text the address of the warehouse above and then turned the phone off. If Leonardo was going to text him back saying he'd changed his mind, he didn't want to hear it.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Notes: This is a rather long chapter. I was going to split it, but then that would have left a very small following chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Raphael takes steps forward, Leonardo takes steps back, and they all walk in circles.**

It was fifteen steps from one end of the garage to the other. He'd counted. Raphael would make one pass, dodging around the tools, his bike, the Battle Shell, and make his way to a spot he had cleared for Cody's car. And then he'd turn and walk back.

One, two, three, four…

It was only the repetition that was keeping him in check. He was glad he didn't smoke but if he did, he knew he would've lit his first that morning and not stopped.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, turn…

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. Cody was late. Well, he wasn't late. He said they would leave the house in Long Island after the sun had started to set. That had been an hour and a half ago. Cody should be arriving at the lair's garage soon. But it was Cody—if he wasn't early, he was late.

A flood of images swamped Raphael, the worse the longer he let them go past him. Cody and Leonardo being stopped by the police and made to get out of the car. Cody not paying attention and crashing into another car. Another driver not paying attention and crashing into them.

Raphael glanced over at his motorcycle as he paced. His hands itched and not for the first time, he wondered if he should just get on his bike and meet them.

Seven, eight, nine, ten…

Raphael shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. There was only one reason he wasn't out there right at that moment. He flipped his phone open and clicked on one of the few icons on his home screen. A map of New York appeared and Raphael let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. A little blinking light was slowly making its way up the street, not two blocks away.

Raphael had intermittently watched Cody and Leonardo's progress from Long Island, all the way into New York. He'd almost rushed out twice when the light had stopped for longer than he felt necessary, but now they were only a few minutes away.

The silence of the garage was broken as the Utron elevator suddenly started to rumble upwards. Raphael stowed his phone as the door opened. Even Donatello stepping out couldn't dampen his mood.

"They'll be here soon," he said as way of greeting.

Donatello cocked his head.

"How do you know?"

"...lucky guess."

Raphael still hadn't told anyone there was a tracking device on Leonardo's phone. He knew it was an invasion of privacy, not that they'd had much privacy growing up in the sewers, but still, he knew there was an ethical issue there. He didn't care, but he knew Donatello would. Raphael glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye as he continued his pacing.

Donatello was watching him with an unreadable expression.

He wasn't sure if Don remembered all the specifications of everything he had ever invented. Surely he wouldn't remember the software he had installed on a phone he created many, many, many years ago? His brother had a good memory but that was ridiculous.

No, he told himself. That secret is safe. Like my other secret.

He clenched his fists.

Raphael knew he had to do something about that particular secret. About the fight on the rooftop. About the bridge. About…

Or, murmured a voice in his ear. You could just let it go?

The idea had popped into his head a few weeks ago and he was almost ashamed to say he was seriously considering it. Why tell Leonardo what had happened on the rooftop? What happened later on the bridge? About…? What did it matter? He was back. Leo was back. He was even coming home. Did the circumstances matter when the end result was successful? Did it really matter that they'd fought, that Raphael, intent on hurting his brother, in fact had, and that injury had played a part in the events that followed?

…no?

Donatello clearing his throat brought Raphael out of his thoughts.

"Everything's ready downstairs." His brother lent against one of the workbenches and kept studying Raphael. "All the foods ready to go and everything's clean. Mikey's too excited. I had to stop him going overboard on the decorations – thanks for your help by the way."

The sarcasm was harsh and if Raphael was a better person, he would have flinched or at least apologised. He didn't. He hadn't really helped, bar doing some cleaning before retreating to the garage to watch a little dot make its way into New York. He wasn't going to apologise for that.

Raphael glanced over at his brother. Donatello was now rolling something around in his fingers, a nut by the look of it, and watching it while he spoke.

"I can't believe he is finally coming home," Donatello said, half talking to Raphael, half to himself. "It feels like a dream, you know, as if it is too good to be true?"

Raphael nodded, though he knew his brother was not looking at him. It did feel almost too good to be true, but he dismissed that thought from his mind.

Nothing is going to wreck this, he thought. Nothing! Leonardo is coming home. Leonardo is finally coming home.

He was so caught up in his thoughts; he almost missed what Donatello said next. Almost.

"I was thinking about that night recently."

Just those simple words made Raphael freeze mid-stride. Don didn't need to explain what he meant by 'that night'. It could only mean one thing. He spun to look at his brother and narrowed his eyes. Donatello was still not looking directly at him, but what was in his hand.

"I keep having dreams about it, flash backs. All these years, I've pushed it to the back of my mind, but with Leo back, it keeps resurfacing. And I realised something."

His brother's next words caught him completely off-guard.

"You never really told us what happened," Donatello said. Raphael felt his pulse start to race.

Why is he bringing this up? Why now? What is he playing at?

He clenched his fists.

"You were there, you saw what happened," he snapped. "Leo fell."

Donatello was quiet for a moment, as if mulling over the answer, before speaking again.

"You were closest though. I thought I saw you reach for him—"

"I did."

"Then why did he fall?"

"He slipped through my fingers," Raphael snarled. He could feel the blood pumping in his ears.

Donatello finally looked up, his brow furrowed.

"Why are you getting defensive? I'm just asking a question—"

"I don't have time to deal with your questions—"

"But I was thinking last night of the trajectory," Don pushed, "he was falling towards you; he should have been able to—"

"It was dark and raining—"

"Yes, but you should have been able to—"

"You need to back off, Don!" Raphael said, his voice starting to rise. "I did all that I could. I did more than you!" He pounded his hand on his chest. "I tried—"

"But I don't understand why he didn't grab hold of your hand—"

A cold panic washed over Raphael at the last few words, and he exploded, hurling words across the garage.

"I don't care that you don't understand! You weren't there. You didn't see what happened. You weren't there afterwards either. You! Gave! Up! I was the only one that kept searching—"

"And even that makes me wonder," Donatello interjected, "You never stopped searching. It was like you were obsessed. As if there was something—"

Raphael didn't let him finish. He grabbed the nearest thing, a stack of tool boxes, and sent them crashing to the ground. As tools rolled across the floor, he took a menacing step towards his brother.

"You need to shut your mouth, Don!"

Rather than a step back, Donatello took a step forwards.

"Why are you so defensive?" he repeated, looking at Raphael as if he was a specimen in his lab. "I'm just trying to understand—"

"What is there to understand! He fell. Why are you pushing! What do you want me to say? What do you want to know!"

Donatello tilted his head.

"Is there something I should know?"

The words carried like a blow and Raphael took a staggering step backwards. He opened and closed his mouth, twice, but he had nothing to say. Only one thought was pounding through his head.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

No, he doesn't! He can't! the other voice snarled. How can he? No one knows. I've told no one.

Raphael turned away. He wanted so badly to sink his fist into something hard. The concrete wall. His brothers face. Anything to make Donatello shut up. Anything to stop the questions.

"Has he asked you about that night?"

Raphael whirled back around. That was one question he could focus his anger on.

"No, and don't dare bring it up," he growled. "He hasn't wanted to come home and I've finally got him here. Don't screw this up like you did last time."

Donatello's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to say something, when they heard a car pull up outside the garage. In a flash, Raphael flicked the garage button and then melted into the shadows. He glared at his brother across the space as the door slowly opened, his anger met by a cold fury from Donatello. This wasn't over.

A vintage BMW with dark tinted windows slowly made its way in. Stopping beside the beaten Battle Shell and amidst the chaos of the garage, it couldn't have looked more out of place. It was probably the cleanest and newest looking thing that had ever entered that space. And the sound! The engine purred. It clearly had been serviced regularly, whether it needed it or not.

The garage door had finally shut when the passenger door opened, and Leonardo slowly stepped out. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses and he was covered head-to-toe in winter clothing.

Raphael glared once more at Donatello, his face threatening violence if he stepped out of line, but his brother's face had changed. He was smiling gently and looked … welcoming? He didn't look like they'd been fighting only seconds before. In contrast, Raphael could feel himself shaking. The anger, the rage that had coursed through him was still there, and he felt like a volcano that was going to explode at the smallest movement. It must have shown on his face because when Leonardo turned to face him, his brother took the smallest step back.

"Hi-Are you okay?"

"Fine," he snapped. With a grunt, he wrenched open the back door of the car.

"What took you so long—Cody!"

He raised his head over the roof and glared at a rather sheepish Cody. The back seat was crammed full of containers. He didn't need to know what was in them, he could guess from their shapes:a cake or two, biscuits, tarts, muffins. Cody had been baking—again.

"Just because we live in the sewers don't mean we can't cook!" he said, his voice a little sharper then he would have usually intended.

Cody drew back a little and mumbled something about not wanting to come empty-handed. He could see Donatello watching him with a cold expression over Cody's shoulder.

You need to calm down, that little voice whispered into his ear. Forget Donatello. Forget him and his questions. It's not Leo's fault and growling at him is not the best way to get him to come back. Or to stay. You let Don rattle you and now you're the problem.

He took a deep breath.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I just, we're going to have so much food."

Cody, still looking sheepish, beamed a little.

"Food's always good to have around," he said. "I'm sure Michelangelo can handle it."

Raphael reached into the car and grabbed the nearest pile of containers so he wouldn't have to look at Leonardo, who he could feel was watching him closely. He wished Donatello hadn't come up to the garage. Don had been the wrecking ball into his carefully laid plans to make Leonardo want to come home. Instead, Raphael had probably scared him and then yelled at Cody.

"Come on," he said, bumping the car door shut once everyone had grabbed an armful. "I'll show you the lair."

xxx

As the Utron elevator door closed and it rattled downwards, Raphael didn't notice Leonardo slide up beside him.

"Hey," Leo murmured, his eyes peaking around three containers. "Everything okay?"

Raphael grimaced.

"Sorry. I just, Donatello was…"

Was what? What was Don doing other than asking questions Raphael didn't want asked? Or to answer. Or for Leonardo to ask. Or for Leo to want answered. He didn't quite know what to say.

A cold chill rushed over Raphael. What if Donatello started asking questions when Leonardo was around? Or worse, what if Raphael wasn't around? What if Don asking questions made Leo start asking questions? He couldn't let that happen. He just couldn't. He wasn't ready.

Suddenly, Raphael had an idea.

"Donatello was planning on pushing you to work on your amnesia," he muttered to Leonardo, making sure his voice was low enough no one else could hear. "He wants to push you to remember. We had a fight about it just before you arrived. I told him to back off."

Leonardo glared over his shoulder and Raphael couldn't help being pleased at his stroke of brilliance. Don and Cody were making small talk about the elevator just behind them, unaware of the furious look directed their way.

Leo slowly turned back.

"He's been texting me about the amnesia," he grumbled. "I've been trying to ignore them."

Raphael felt his pulse start beating faster. So Donatello had been texting Leo. He hadn't known. He felt like he was standing on a cliff edge, tittering on the edge, and hadn't known about it. The situation was worse than he thought.

"Don't worry," he said. "I told him to back off. He won't bother you tonight."

Raphael gritted his teeth.

"I'll also make sure he stops bothering you about, about, about that."

Leonardo nodded and then smiled at him.

"I'm glad I can depend on you."

A strange warmth flooded Raphael. It took him a moment to pinpoint it.

Happiness, he thought, This is what happiness feels like.

He was saved from saying anything as the elevator stopped and the doors slowly opened. Standing by the kitchen table, already heaped high with food, was Master Splinter.

Raphael had forgotten it had been months since Splinter had seen his son. It struck him how much younger his father suddenly looked. His eyes sparkled and he didn't seem to lean as heavily on his cane. Raphael was more used to seeing a sad, distant look on his father's face yet now; it had a wide smile across it.

He turned to his brother and smiled.

"Welcome to the Lair."

xxx

Between Michelangelo and Cody's cooking, the table sagged under the weight of all the dishes. Unlike last time, conversation flowed more smoothly. Cody appeared nervous until he was handed cutlery to serve and suddenly, he was in his element. It was only later Raphael realised Mikey had done that on purpose and he suddenly felt a little pride for his brother.

Raphael also couldn't have been happier having watched Donatello's face drop when Leonardo made a beeline for the seat furthest away. It placed him next to Splinter and Raphael, with Cody on his other side, Michelangelo next to Raphael, and Donatello by himself up the other end.

Having finished the main course and as Mikey and Donatello—having fought Cody to stay seated—cleared the table for dessert, Master Splinter reached his hand out and placed it on Leonardo's.

"Thank you for coming," he said, a smile across his face. He then looked up. "And you too, Mr Cody. You have both made me very happy."

"What about me?" came a voice from the kitchen, "I did all the cooking!"

Master Splinter, and most of the table, groaned.

"Yes, you too, Michelangelo."

He turned back to Leonardo.

"It is so good to have my family home again."

Leonardo said nothing, but he didn't remove his hand which Raphael took as a good sign. However, he glanced over and noticed Master Splinter's face fall a little. His eyes were focused elsewhere and when Raphael followed them, he realised his father was watching the clock.

It was late, quite late, and that only meant one thing—Leonardo would be leaving soon. Dinner was over, that meant only dessert. Then Leo and Cody would go and their little family, that had swollen with the return of a son, would shrink again.

Master Splinter sighed and withdrew his hand.

"Maybe you will show your brother around our home?" Splinter said, glancing at Raphael.

Leonardo looked up. They hadn't done that, taken Leo on a tour, given that, well, Leonardo had lived there. But in a way, it was the first time he had ever been to the lair.

"You do not mind, Mr Cody? I would like to talk to you about the cake you brought. It was delicious."

Raphael saw immediately through the lie and smirked at his father. Master Splinter wouldn't know the difference between one cake and another. He was using it as an excuse so Leonardo could explore the lair on his own.

Raphael glanced at his brother.

"Want a tour?"

Leonardo nodded, before slowly getting to his feet. They left the kitchen and went into the lounge area.

"Couch. Televisions." He pointed at a collection of comics. "Mikey's junk."

Raphael took him into the dojo. Leonardo admired the weapons and looked at the equipment they had gathered over the years, but there was no flicker of recognition. Raphael left quickly after that.

They passed Donatello's lab and then took the stairs to the second floor.

"This one's Don's room, the next one's Mikes, mine and then…" he trailed off.

Since Leonardo disappeared, they hadn't known what to do with his room. His open door was like a wound that would never heal. No one went in there, too many memories, and it didn't feel right turning it into something else. A junk room? Another lab for Donatello? A guest's bedroom? They'd done the only thing they could think of—shut the door and collectively pretend it didn't exist.

Leonardo glanced at him.

"My room?"

"Yeah."

The door was jammed but with a hard shove, they were able to push their way in. The room had a musty smell and from memory, Raphael felt his way along the wall and flicked on the light. It was like stepping into a time capsule and the dust swirling in the air only enhanced the look. Everything was virtually as Leonardo had left it. Yes, his bedding had been removed and some of his books were downstairs, but the bookshelf was still there. The bed was still there. The hooks on which he hung his swords were still there.

Leonardo glanced around the room before he took a slow step towards the hooks. Raphael watched as he ran a finger along the nearest, as if running his hand over a memory. His voice echoed in the quiet.

"What was here?"

A shudder ran through Raphael.

"Your swords."

Leonardo nodded, as if he'd known the answer. He turned to look at Raphael.

"What happened to them?"

"They're somewhere at the bottom of the East River." Raphael shrugged. "Splinter has your other set in his room."

Leonardo cocked his head.

"Why?"

Because he has a shrine to you.

"umm…"

He wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. But Leonardo was waiting and he shuffled his feet.

"Well, he thought you were dead so he, umm…"

He paused and then said with a rush. "He has a small shrine in his room. They're part of it."

Leonardo studied him for a moment.

"Oh."

"He'll probably let you see them if you want?"

He was sure Leo would say no, but was surprised when, after a moment, Leonardo nodded.

He wants to see his swords? What does that mean? Does it mean anything?

Raphael pushed the thought from his mind as he turned and left the room. He could hear Leonardo coming up behind him as he walked back to the table. Donatello and Mikey were again seated, having set the table with dessert. Cakes, ice cream, muffins—the table again groaned under the weight.

He barely paid the spread attention and turned to his father.

"Leonardo wants to see his swords."

His question cut through the chatter. He could have dropped a pin and people on the surface would have heard. It was like a current of excitement raced through the family. They glanced at each other, the same question being asked again and again with their eyes.

He wants to see his swords? What does that mean? Does it mean anything?

Splinter nodded and slowly rose to his feet.

"I will retrieve them."

Raphael was too nervous, too tense to sit. His hands were clenching the back of the seat, listening as his father padded towards his room. He glanced at Leonardo.

His brother was standing, stock-still beside him. He had an unreadable expression on his face, not that Raphael was able to read him anymore.

Splinter shutting the door to his bedroom sounded like an explosion, making them all jump. As he walked over, they could all see in his hand one of Leonardo's katana. It still had the blue bandanna wrapped around it and everyone took a deep breath as Splinter, without a word, slowly drew the blade.

All eyes were now on Leonardo. He seemed to reach forward, blinked, and rocked a little. Then he groaned and scrunched up his eyes, as if someone was shining a bright light into them. There was a hurried shout, a chair scrapping backwards, and Raphael had just enough time to catch his brother as Leonardo crumpled to the floor.

xxx

"What. Happened?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"Aren't you meant to be our resident genius?"

"I'm an engineer, not a doctor," Donatello growled. "Why don't you tell me what happened? Or as the resident hothead does your expertise only cover smashing—"

Splinter's voice cut between the two brothers.

"Enough, my sons!" He glared at both of them. "You are causing more harm with this bickering. You either keep quiet, or you leave."

With a final glare, Splinter turned back towards the source of his current anxiety. Leonardo was lying on the couch, covered by a coarse blanket. When he wouldn't wake up, and in a panic, the brothers had manoeuvred him to the couch where he hadn't moved, even twitched, since. When they'd ascertained he was only unconscious but still breathing, the uneasy wait had started.

And the yet unanswered question: What happened?

From the radiance of rediscovered youth earlier in the night, Splinter looked like he had aged ten more years. His whiskers drooped and his hand was shaking as he slowly reached out and ran it over Leonardo's head.

Someone cleared their throat and Raphael wasn't the only one who jumped. In the panic, everyone had forgotten Cody. He was standing a little off to the side, as if afraid to encroach on the family.

"This, this isn't the first time this has happened," Cody mumbled.

"What?" Raphael and Donatello said. They looked at each other and then turned the other way.

Cody shrunk back a little.

"This is probably the third, or fourth time." His eyes glazed over as he thought back. "No, sorry. Sixth time. I forgot about—"

"Sixth time! And you're only telling us now!" Raphael snapped, his anger growing. How many times had he visited this human's house and he'd never thought to mention it? Cody had plied him full of cakes and biscuits and endless drinks but failed to mention this? He threw a glance at Donatello whose eyes had narrowed. Master Splinter appeared calm but his tail was thrashing.

Cody looked like he regretted saying anything, and seemed to shrink further in on himself.

"He didn't want to worry you and it hadn't happened in a while—"

"Awhile! When was the last one?"

Cody glanced at Donatello.

"Umm, probably when he was calling the shop."

"April's," Michelangelo said, voicing everyone else's thoughts. "But that was months ago."

"And before?"

Cody shifted from one foot to the other. "Maybe you should ask Leo when he wakes—"

"Please, Mr Cody," Splinter said, fixing his gaze. "It might help us know more about what is wrong with my son."

It was more command than request and Raphael picked up on the use of "my son". Not 'you're friend'—'my son'. Cody seemed to wilt under Master Splinter's hard gaze.

"Well, it happened a few times, umm, when I first found him. It was more common then. He'd try and remember who he was and where he was from and he'd just—Cody waved his hands at Leonardo—It's like his body shuts down."

Donatello took a sharp breath in.

"That makes sense." He turned to Splinter but was talking to the room. "His body can't handle the information and shuts down for a bit."

Donatello then glared at Raphael.

"Not bad for an engineer."

"Would you give it a rest—"

There was a low moan from the couch and everyone spun. Leonardo was waking up.

"My son?"

Leonardo opened his eyes, once, twice. He turned to look at Master Splinter and then murmured.

"…sensei?"

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Splinter had always said one of Leonardo's first words was 'sensei'. It meant more than 'father'. More than 'teacher', or 'master'. It meant, it meant everything. How long had it been since Leonardo had said that word?

Then the moment was broken as Leonardo heaved over the edge of the couch, bringing up everything he had eaten as Cody muttered: "I also forgot to mention that part." Yet, as vomit splattered the ground, Splinter didn't seem to care. Tears were glistening in his eyes.

"I'm here, my son," he said, his voice catching. He reached out a shaky hand and gently stroked his forehead. "It is okay. Everything will be okay. I'm here."

With a groan and a shudder, Leonardo lay back on the sofa. He was pale and looked feverish, a glisten of sweat across his face.

"W-what happened?" he croaked.

Raphael opened his mouth but was beaten by another.

"You passed out," Donatello said. A glass of water had appeared in his hand and he passed it to Leonardo. "It must have something to do with your amnesia. I think…"

Donatello then trailed off, noticing the way Leonardo glared at him. The lair fell into an awkward silence, eventually broken by Master Splinter.

"Mr Cody informed us this is not the first time this has happened?"

Leonardo threw a dirty look in Cody's direction.

"It's nothing," he said, sitting up before repeating, "It's nothing."

"I do not believe so, my son," Splinter said. "It seems this only happens when you are trying to remember. There is information to be had there."

He looked at his son.

"Sometimes the body protects us because it wants us to remember. Sometimes it protects us because it wants us to forget. And sometimes we protect ourselves by not trying."

Leonardo put the glass down hard and got sharply to his feet, brushing aside Splinter's help when he reached forward. Raphael took a breath in, recognising the signs of Leonardo's temper.

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"That you are fighting the healing process—"

"Healing shouldn't hurt like this," Leonardo snapped, his voice rising.

"You were grievously injured, my son. You—"

"What would you know about it!" Leonardo snarled. He threw his arm out wide. "You don't know what it was like. To be all alone. To think I was all alone. To not know who or what I was! I tried to remember. I was desperate but every time I tried, it hurt! It still hurts! What don't you understand about that?"

"We are here for you. You have never backed away from a problem—"

"You don't know me—"

"Yes, I do. You are strong, my son—"

"Then maybe I'm not your son!" Leonardo shouted. "Not anymore."

It was like everyone took in a collective breath and Splinter froze as if he had been slapped.

"You don't mean that," Splinter said after a moment. "You don't—"

"I do," Leonardo snapped but moreover, he sounded defeated. "I tried and this hasn't worked." He waved his hands around the lair. "This isn't working. Stop pushing me. Your Leonardo died that night, just accept it."

Nobody said a word for several moments. Splinter opened his mouth but no words came out. Raphael was frozen in place, the same words bouncing around his head.

"This isn't working. Stop pushing me. Your Leonardo died that night, just accept it."

The silence was broken by Leonardo.

"It's late," he said to Cody, who everyone had again forgotten. "We're leaving."

Splinter reached forward, grabbing at his arm.

"My son, please, I do not think it is wise—"

Leonardo pulled his arm from his father's grasp.

"I want to go home."

Splinter reached for him again.

"But, my son," he pleaded, "you are home."

"No," Leonardo said, stepping out of his father's reach. "No, I'm not. I want to go home, to Long Island, and I want you to leave me alone."

Without another word, he turned and marched towards the Utron elevator. There was nothing more to do. No one said anything. They just slowly and quietly followed him to the surface, watching as without a goodbye, Leonardo got into the back seat of the car. The click of the door was like a book shutting, a story ending.

Cody muttered something, apologies maybe, but then climbed into the driver's seat.

It can't end like this, Raphael thought frantically. Not like this.

Checking his pockets and relieved he had his phone; he quickly turned to Michelangelo who stood beside him.

"I'm going with him," he said. "I'll let you know when to come and get me."

Without another word, he opened the back door and climbed in. Leonardo had his head resting against the window and he briefly glanced over.

"I'm coming too," Raphael said, leaving no room for argument.

He didn't need to say anymore. He didn't want his brother to be alone. Not when he looked so lost. Below the anger he had displayed in the lair, Raphael had seen something he hadn't seen in his brother for years—fear. Leonardo stared at him for a moment and then turned his face back to the window. It was then Raphael noticed the lone tear making his way down his face.

"I can't believe I just said that," he murmured. "Did you see his face? I think it would have hurt less if I'd hit him."

He didn't speak again until the car started and they pulled out of the garage.

"I don't know what it is," Leonardo said as rain started to fleck at the windows. "It's like there's a block, something that is stopping me from remembering. Why don't they understand that? It hurts me, and then I hurt them."

He shuddered.

"I want to remember, yet I also want to forget."

There was nothing Raphael could think to say. He just reached his arm out and pulled his brother into a hug, and tried not to notice as Leonardo started to cry.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: Let the downwards spiral—begin.

* * *

**Raphael is there for his brother and always will be, until he isn't. **

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon as the trio finally pulled into Cody's driveway. Leonardo hadn't spoken the entire trip, and the car had barely come to a stop when his hand pushed the car door open. Raphael sighed as his brother's long legs carried him quickly across the yard. He slipped into the house and disappeared from view. The house appeared empty and devoid of life, even though he knew his brother was inside somewhere.

"The next couple of days are going to be rough," Cody said from the front seat, his eyes briefly meeting Raphael's in the rear-view mirror. "Especially when he gets like this."

"Figured. That's why I'm here."

Raphael paused for a moment.

"What's he like, when he gets like this?"

Cody's eyes flicked to him.

"He wasn't like this when he, before he, before?"

Raphael shook his head. Cody sighed loudly and slumped back in his seat.

"It's hard to explain. It's like he, deflates? He just draws in on himself. I think the house could be burning down and he wouldn't stir. He hardly eats. He won't talk. He will just lie in bed and stare at the wall."

Cody shrugged.

"He'll bounce back after a few days, or weeks. Apart from making sure he eats, there's not much I can do until he snaps out of it. I've tried in the past but I just made it worse. I usually just let him sort out whatever he needs to sort out."

He shrugged again.

"It's best not to push. Pushing him always makes things worse."

A little while later, Raphael climbed the attic steps and slowly navigated his way to his brother. Leonardo was lying on his bed, his face turned into the wall and his shell to the room, his body haphazardly covered by a blanket. Light from the attics window was starting to stream in, but it only seemed to make the room feel colder. Raphael quickly shut the curtains and turned. He knew Leonardo knew he was there, but there was no flicker of acknowledgement. It was like his brother was made of stone and Raphael felt a coldness creep up into his stomach.

Quietly, he padded over and pulled the blanket until it covered him. Leonardo didn't move but he could see his eyes were open, blank, and staring at the wall in front. Raphael grasped his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

"If you need anything," he murmured, "I'll be downstairs."

Leonardo didn't acknowledge him. He didn't say anything. He barely moved. For three days.

He did get up occasionally for the usual reasons—bathroom breaks notwithstanding—but not much else. Raphael tried several times to engage him in conversation, but he mostly received only silence. Sometimes he'd read, other times he'd watch television or play a game in the attic, hoping the sound would bring Leonardo out of his mood. Or his presence would at least remind him that other people existed.

It didn't. His brother just lay in bed with his back to the world.

Raphael text his family occasionally to keep them updated, but there wasn't much to say.

He's not eating.

He's not talking.

No, don't come and get me yet.

DO NOT COME HERE. YOU'LL MAKE IT WORSE!

The silence would press in on the attic until it felt heavier than water. He wondered how he could stand in a room and feel like he was drowning. Sometimes, it became too much and he had to get out.

He'd seek what felt like the only other living person in the house—Cody. He'd usually find him working on something intricate in his workshop and Raphael, just to hear someone other than himself make any kind of noise, would join him. He'd tinker with the various bits of junk lying around, but often he'd just sit and chat. Or try too. It wasn't the same as with Casey, or as it used to be before Casey ran away to hide in rural Massachusetts. There wasn't much he had in common with Cody, other than his brother, and yet, that was all he wanted to talk about.

Have you seen any improvement? How long do these episodes last? What can I do to help? Nothing is working.

Raphael sighed.

At least he'd made progress on one project. He'd found Leonardo's phone forgotten on the back seat of the car when they'd arrived back in Long Island. When he was alone, he'd had a look at what Donatello had been saying.

Leonardo was right, Don had been texting him. Asking him question about what he remembered, especially about that night. He scrolled back through the messages, of his brother telling Leonardo about his research into cures for amnesia. Don was delicate about what he spoke to his brother about, but if he was asking Raphael questions, it was only a matter of time before he started asking Leonardo more questions. He knew his brother was only trying to help but…

Raphael made up his mind. For the benefit of his brother, he assigned all future incoming and outgoing messages and calls from Donatello to the phones trash. Then after another moment, he did the same to Michelangelo. And April. And then the lairs landline.

When he placed the phone on his brother's bedside table, thinking his brother was asleep, Raphael jumped when Leonardo rolled over and asked in a tired voice: "What are you doing?"

His heart had been pounding and he said the first thing that came to his head.

"Found your phone on the car seat."

Trying to divert attention, he'd pulled the cover up a little higher on this brother and tucked him in.

"Go back to sleep, Leo. I'm here. Everything is okay."

It's for the best, he thought as he walked down the stairs to the lower part of the house. For Leonardo. Always for Leo.

Raphael had been in Long Island for a week when he joined Cody in the 'informal lounge' (whatever that was). Cody was reading a text book and Raphael had been glancing at a National Geographic but all his attention, even his eyes, were focused on the roof, as if his eyes could pierce through into the attic.

Without even looking, he asked the question that had been bouncing around his head all day.

"This isn't the first time he has done this, right? I know you said he'd sometimes have fainting episodes but what about this?"

He didn't need to explain what 'this' was. Not eating. Not talking. Not living.

Cody put down his book.

"About once or twice a year. He'd just fall into a deep depression, or maybe a slump. I've tried everything to help but it just—he shrugged—I dunno, it's just something he does."

"What sets them off?"

"I don't know, and if he does, he's never told me. Sometimes they seem unexpected but I could always count on one around early July. They're like clockwork."

Raphael sat up straight, his mind buzzing.

"July? Early July? You're sure?"

Cody tilted his head and slowly nodded.

"Yes, I'm sure. Does it mean something?"

Raphael mulled the question over for a moment before slouching back into the chair.

"His, our birthdays are in July," he mumbled, "The 4th."

No one knew when the brother's actual birthday were, or even if they were born on the same day, but Splinter had incorporated the Independence Day fireworks into their birthday celebrations. It was one of the only nights in the year he would sneak his sons out onto a quiet rooftop so they could watch. Raphael could still remember the first year he'd seen the lights and the colours exploding above them, and hear the shrieks and laughter of his siblings. Fireworks still had a special place in his heart and it didn't matter how old any of them grew, it was a tradition every year for them to watch the fireworks together. As a family. Until a few years ago.

Raphael mulled the thought over for a moment.

"He might have known he was missing out on something, without knowing he was missing out?"

Cody nodded.

"Maybe. He would never watch the fireworks on television, or go and see them with me."

Raphael sighed but then pricked his ears up at movement upstairs. He raised his eye at Cody and pointed upwards as a voice called out from the staircase.

"In here!" he shouted back.

Footsteps slowly padded down the hallway and Leonardo hesitantly made his way into the room, as if unsure if he should be there. Dark rings were under his eyes and he walked stiffly. Even though he'd done nothing but lay in bed for days, he looked exhausted.

Cody jumped to his feet, ever the good host.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

He nodded and Cody bustled from the room. After a moment, Leonardo sat on the sofa next to Raphael, not quite meeting his eyes. The brothers sat in silence, the distant sounds of Cody in the kitchen the only noise.

"I thought you would've gone home by now," Leonardo murmured. His voice sounded hollow, as if he was talking from the bottom of a hole.

Raphael shrugged.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay before I left."

Leonardo nodded, as if he expected such an answer.

"Sorry."

Not sure what to do, Raphael reached over and threw an arm over his brothers shoulder. He didn't know what he was trying to convey but he hoped whatever it was, it was enough.

Leonardo stared at the floor for a moment before he spoke.

"I've been thinking a lot about what Master Splinter said."

Raphael chuckled and withdrew his arm.

"Don't fall back on bad habits of listening to everything sensei says."

Leonardo was quiet again before he turned to face his brother. There was something in his eyes and Raphael suddenly felt a cold chill run through him.

"But something he said keeps bumping around my head, and I can't escape it," Leonardo murmured, "He's right, I'm still running. Running from that night. Running from the truth. Running from not wanting to remember—he shut his eyes—Running from the pain."

He opened his eyes and looked at Raphael.

"I want to stop running," he said. "And I was thinking, you never really told me about that night. You never told me what exactly happened?"

Fear suddenly gripped Raphael and he felt like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest. He scrambled for something to say.

"You, you never asked."

Leonardo nodded.

"I know but I'm asking now. I'm ready. I want to know what happened?"

He reached forward and lightly grabbed Raphael's arm.

"I want to know everything."

Raphael wrenched his arm away as if his brother's touch burned.

No. No! Not now! NOT NOW! I'm not ready!

"You're not ready," he stammered, latching onto his last train of thought. "You only just recovered from your last episode; I don't want you to go through that again."

Leonardo shut his eyes.

"So something did happen—"

"I didn't say that!" Raphael snarled, his voice getting louder.

Leonardo's brow furrowed.

"So what are you saying then? I don't understand."

"No, you don't."

Leonardo drew back and Raphael watched his brother's eyes harden.

"If I don't understand, then you should tell me? What happened that night? I deserve to know."

"I told you already," Raphael snapped. "You fell. You. Fell."

Leonardo threw his hands up.

"That's it? I fell? You said I was this great ninja, yet I just fell off a bridge? How? Why? Who—"

"What do you mean who!"

"Why are you so defensive?"

"I'm not defensive! I-I'm just worried you'll, you'll, you'll pass out." Raphael clenched his fists. "You're the one who's never wanted to talk about it. You're the one that always gets upset if someone brings it up? Do you remember Leo, or have you forgotten that too?"

It was Leonardo's turn to clench his fists.

"I haven't forgotten! This is my life! This happened to me, Raphael!" Leonardo pounded his chest. "I'm the one who has had to live with this. This happened to me, not you, me! I get to decide, and I have decided I want to know."

"There's nothing to know!"

Leonardo's eyes narrowed and he searched his brother's face for a moment before taking a sharp breath.

"You're hiding something."

Raphael snarled but Leonardo shook his head.

"No, you are. Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll ask someone else."

Raphael lunged forward and grabbed Leonardo's arms hard enough to bruise.

"Don't you dare!"

"Oww—"

"What part about you fell don't you understand!"

"You're hurting me—"

"You fell, Leo. You fell!"

"You're hurting me. Let go. Let go!"

His brother's plea finally cut through the rage and Raphael dropped his arm like it burnt. Leonardo, his eyes wide and fearful, pushed as far away as possible on the sofa and drew his arms around him. Raphael could see his brother was trembling. He looked down at his hands like he didn't believe they were his.

What did I just do? he thought. What did I do? I need to get away.

Raphael roughly got to his feet and ducked out of the room, nearly crashing into Cody who was hurrying in.

"Is everything okay? I heard voices—"

"Not now, Cody."

Without a backwards glance, Raphael liberated a long coat from the rack, crammed his feet into a pair of gum-boots, and slammed the front door behind him.

xxx

The last of winters chill still hung in the air as Raphael stomped his way across the front yard. He made his way over the road and ducked between two hedges. Within a few minutes, he found himself clambering to the top of a small sand dune that overlooked a deserted beach.

Casting about quickly to make sure no one was around, Raphael let the growl he'd been clamping down on in his chest grow, grow, and grow until a loud bellow ripped its way out and echoed across the beach. Still snarling, he grabbed his sais and whirled them in his hands, thrusting and stabbing around him as if cutting down invisible enemies or words or the memory of what just happened, killing and slashing and destroying and burning.

He tried not to think of the look of fear in his brother's eyes as he grabbed him…

Tried not to remember how hard he gripped his arms…

Tried not to think about the panicked feeling building in his own chest about Leo asking questions…

Tried not to think of the bruises he left…

Tried to pretend he hadn't seen Leonardo flinch, or scuttle as far away from him as possible once he'd let go…

Tried not to think about that night…

Tried not to think about that alleyway…

Tried not to think about the bridge…

Tried not to think about Leonardo falling…

Tried not to think about that question. That simple question.

What happened that night?

You fell.

That's it?

"What do you want from me!" Raphael bellowed towards the ocean. With a snarl, he gripped one of his sai and flung it as far as he could, watching emotionless as it tumbled into the churning shallows.

A strange thought bounced around his head.

Maybe it'll drift down to lay with Leo's katana?

It was possible, they'd never found them.

Raphael growled, long and low. It was unlikely. What was more likely was some stupid punk finding it and thinking it was a toy.

With another snarl, he spent the next ten minutes staggering through the swell. It was less luck and more reality that his sai were heavy and had immediately sunk, which aided in his search. Still, by the time he pulled himself from the water, he was drenched and starting to shiver. He almost wanted to chuck his sai back into the ocean but instead, he thrust it into his belt and sat on one of the nearby dunes, taking cruel pleasure in the way the wind whipped the sand into his face.

This new line of questioning had caught him off-guard. He'd thought, given what had happened at the lair, Leonardo would not want to talk about that night. Raphael could live in his bubble just a little longer. He wouldn't have to face…

Raphael stilled himself.

No, Leonardo was not ready. He was not ready to learn the truth of that night. Just because he'd asked about what happened, didn't mean he actually wanted to know.

Raphael couldn't face his brother, not yet, not after what he had done, and given what had happened between them, and Leonardo and his family, maybe it was best if everyone took a break.

Leonardo just needs a break, Raphael thought. Just for a while. Just until I can sort out...until I can sort everything out.

It was what Leo had wanted. To be left alone. He was protecting his brother. He was doing him a favour.

This is for Leonardo, he told himself. Always for Leo.

There was a honk from somewhere behind him and Raphael turned to see Cody's car pulling into a nearby car park.

With a final snarl, Raphael started walking.

"Are you okay?" Cody asked as Raphael slowly climbed into the car.

"Peachy."

"It's just you—"

"I'm fine, Cody. Just go!"

Cody looked at him for a second, his face unreadable, before he slowly turned the car back towards home. Silence followed them back to the house and right up until Cody parked the car in the garage. With a hard tug, Raphael tried to open the door which he discovered were locked.

He rounded on Cody.

"You goin' let me out?"

"You might be fine, but Leo isn't," Cody said. "Y-you hurt him. He told me what happened, I thought you would be happy Leo was asking questions?"

"There's a lot you don't know, Cody," Raphael snapped, ignoring the guilt that bubbled up inside him at Cody's words. "Quit while you're ahead."

But Cody wasn't done.

"I don't understand," he said and for the first time, Raphael heard a hint of anger in his voice. "He finally comes down after days in his bed and you, you, I don't know what you did but I leave for two minutes and I come back to find you storming out and Leonardo cowering on the sofa."

Cody threw up his hands.

"I just don't understand," he repeated, his voice echoing in the quiet car. "I just…"

Cody was silent for a moment before he popped the lock on the car doors.

"I think you should go home tonight."

"Fine by me."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: I rewrote this chapter so many times, it was definitely one of the hardest of this story.

* * *

**The net tightens around Raphael and if he's not careful, his lies might catch him. **

The bruises on Ryan's arm had long since disappeared, but their memory remained. Sometimes he'd rub his fingers across the skin, sure that if he rubbed hard enough, they would reappear—as if they were only hiding, taunting him.

"What part about you fell don't you understand!"

"You're hurting me—"

"You fell, Leo. You fell!"

"You're hurting me. Let go. Let go!"

The day it happened, Raphael didn't speak to him after Cody picked him up from the beach. His brother had spent the day in the garage, ignoring the rest of the household. The sun had barely set when Ryan watched from the lounge's window as Raphael got into the Battle Shell without a backwards glance. He had half expected someone to get out and come speak to him, check he was okay. Instead, after a few moments, the vehicle had pulled out of the driveway and set off into the sunset, leaving Ryan feeling more alone then he had ever felt before.

Over the next few days, the next few weeks, his emotions raged and varied. Anger. Hurt. Fear. Panic. Sadness. Ryan spent days in his room trying to sort out all the thoughts in his head. Splinter. Donatello. Raphael. Michelangelo. Cody had tried to talk to him, but he had nothing to say. Nothing made sense any more.

Ryan knew he should be angry at Raphael, yet he couldn't help feel he had done something wrong. But what? Raphael had always told him the truth. Had answered his questions. Had protected him. Had stopped his family pushing. Had sheltered him from Donatello. It didn't make sense why he had reacted in such a way when Ryan had started asking questions.

He couldn't shake the feeling Raphael was hiding something. Was he still protecting him from the family? Was there something that had happened? If so, why had he reacted with anger? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

And it didn't make sense the gaping hole in communication. He'd heard from no one. Not one text. Not one call. Nothing from Raphael. Not a word from Michelangelo. He'd even started wishing to hear from Donatello, even if it was more questions about his amnesia. Something, anything, to know they were alive.

Not for the first time, he cursed his phone's limitation that it could only send texts. It was also the first time he realised contacts were saved in the phone not as a number but only as a name. He remembered Raphael mentioning it was a safety feature, to make sure no one could get their number. However, it also meant he couldn't use any other phone to call his so-called brothers, to check if they were screening his calls. He'd seen a phone in the lair, but he'd never been given the number so he couldn't call that either. Instead, he had to resort to just sending texts.

He hadn't felt comfortable contacting Raphael after what happened, so he texted Donatello and Michelangelo instead. At first, he told them how he was angry and didn't want to talk to them. Then he told them he was willing to talk to them. Then he started asking them to call him. He just wanted to hear their voices.

Three weeks without a word. No phone calls. No texts. Nothing. It was like his supposed family had disappeared. Again.

Ryan spent his days hovering around his phone hoping someone would contact him. He took to opening his phone multiple times a day to check if there were any new messages. There never were, and he'd hurled the phone across the room more than once when he'd seen there was nothing waiting for him.

He remembered the words he'd screamed at his 'father'. That he wasn't his son. That he wanted to be left alone. He'd meant it, he had, but he hadn't meant he wanted to cut contact. That wasn't what he meant. Well, maybe it was, but it wasn't the truth. He…he needed them. He needed them but he didn't need them to push. He didn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't this. Not this. Anything but this.

Ryan didn't know what to do. He was living in a nightmare and he couldn't help feel it was of his own design.

xxx

It was Wednesday afternoon and Ryan was lying on his bed. He'd spent most of the day up there, getting sick of the way Cody looked at him with concern as he paced around the house. His mind was slowly wandering over his problem when he suddenly sat up.

… April …

The one who had started this all. He'd never got her mobile number or home phone, he'd never needed it—he'd never really met her—but he didn't need that. She had a business and he knew it was listed.

He quickly flicked his phone open—4.30pm. It was almost closing time so he had to be quick.

Ryan glanced over at his corkboard. Pinned in one corner was all the information he had on April's shop. A picture from the internet. The address. The phone number. He dashed downstairs to the house phone and dialled the number, crossing his fingers she'd answer.

It rang twice.

"Second Time Around, April speaking."

Ryan clutched the phone hard.

"April, April—it's me. Please don't hang up."

"Leo?"

He felt relief flood him. Someone was alive. Someone still existed.

"Yes. I—" he suddenly didn't know what to say. He hadn't planned this far ahead. He'd just been desperate to hear from someone.

He took a deep breath.

"How…how are you?"

He winched at how awkward his question had been. He could almost hear the pause in April's voice.

"I'm good. H-How are you?"

Ryan's voice caught in his throat.

"I…"

A thousand thoughts thundered through his head and he blurted out the first thing that came out.

"Have you heard from Raphael?"

April was quiet for a moment.

"No," she said, her voice slow and measured. "We aren't talking, we haven't been for a while. I don't think anyone's seen much of Raphael lately either, apparently he's rarely home. He hasn't spoken to you?"

Ryan shook his head and then realised April couldn't see him.

"No," he said. "He—"

The words "He hasn't spoken to me since I last saw him" was too hard to say, so he chose to say nothing. Luckily April filled the silence.

"I saw Don and Mike last week."

Ryan's ears pricked up at that.

"They came over," she continued. "Well, Mikey came over and then Don got worried when he didn't come home, so he came over too."

"What? Why?"

April hesitated.

"He, Mike, was pretty upset," she said. She seemed to hesitate, but then pushed on. "They told me what happened, about your visit, about the fight."

"Oh."

An awkward silence filled the air. Ryan felt like he wasn't able to make the sounds, the words, he needed. To tell his side of the story. To ask April to ask his brothers to call him. To ask why they weren't answering his messages.

"Do you want to talk about it?" April murmured.

Ryan was quiet for a moment. He'd never met April, well at least not in the distant past he could remember, but he felt like he could trust her. She was the first person who had ever looked at him like she knew him, and he decided to trust her again.

"I always hoped I'd find my family and it would just, I don't know, work," he said. "As if finding them would fix everything, but it hasn't. It's just, just hard."

April hummed and he knew she was nodding on the other end.

"Mike and Don told me about what you said to Master Splinter?"

Ryan sighed, and slide down to the floor, sitting with the phone cradled against his ears and his arms wrapped around his legs.

"I didn't mean half of it," he murmured. He'd felt nothing but guilt since the visit, but this had been the first time he'd been able to voice it. "Or I did, I don't know. I just get—he cast around for the right word—overwhelmed? It's like there is a block on my memories of the past. I can feel them there, my memories, like they're in the back of my mind, but I can't get to them. And they make it worse when they push, I'm just so confused when I'm around my, my—"

Siblings? Brothers? Father? Family?

He didn't know anymore. How could they abandon him for so long, and still care for him? He took a moment to compose himself.

"April," he asked, hoping she couldn't hear the catch in his throat. "Can you please ask them to call me? Please? I haven't heard from them in weeks, and no one has been answering my messages. Tell them I'm sorry for what happened; I just want to talk to them."

April was quiet for a moment, but Ryan felt as if the mood had shifted.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice a little sharper than before. "They've been trying to contact you? You haven't been answering their messages or calls."

That caught Ryan off-guard. They'd been trying to contact him? What? It took him a moment to answer.

"That's not true," he said. "I haven't received anything since, since—"

Forever? It felt like forever, but he didn't need to answer because April spoke again.

"I can't speak for Raphael, but Don and Mike showed me the texts they'd sent you when they were over? I saw them. The calls too."

Narrowing his eyes, Ryan pulled out his phone, like he had done in the days and weeks since he'd last seen his brothers. He flicked it open, expecting a flood of messages he'd somehow missed to appear. As he expected, though he hadn't hoped, his phone was empty, as it had been since Raphael had left Long Island.

"There's nothing," he said, a sudden wave of anger washing over him. Anger at his brothers for ignoring him. At April for lying to him. "They've sent me nothing. They've forgotten me."

"I can assure you, Leo," April said. "Don and Mike haven't forgotten you. They were devastated when Raphael said you didn't want to talk to any of them."

Ryan's eyes widened and he clutched the phone hard. Why would Raphael say that? He searched his memories, but he knew the truth. He'd said many things he now regretted, but that was not one of them. Maybe Raphael had misheard him?

"I-I never said that," he murmured after a moment. "I, no, I never did. I was angry and upset, and I wanted them to stop pushing, but I never said I didn't want to speak to them."

He paused for a moment.

"Why didn't they come and see me? Come and check up on me?"

"You weren't answering their calls or texts, they assumed you were serious."

They both lapsed into silence.

"This doesn't make sense," she said after a moment. "You're saying you never received their calls or texts, and I saw the messages Don and Mike were sending. Mikey even tried to call your phone while they were here."

"Why didn't they try the home phone? To call Cody?"

"Raphael was the only one with the house number, and he said to leave you alone."

Ryan shook his head. Why would Raphael do that? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

"I don't understand," Ryan said.

"No, nor do I."

The line was quiet for a moment.

"Has anything happened to your phone?" April asked after a moment. "Have you dropped it, or has it not been working?"

Ryan shook his head, again forgetting she couldn't see him.

"No," he said. "I've had it with me the whole time. Nothing's happened to it. It's—he shrugged—it's fine."

April breathed out.

"Well, there's something wrong," she muttered, as if trying to work out a puzzle. She went to say something, but the Ryan heard the shop door open. April cursed.

"Leo, I'm so sorry," she said in a hurry. "I've got a delivery but once I'm done, I'll call Don and tell him what you told me, that you've been trying to contact them but something's wrong with your phone. I'd give you his number but I don't know it off by heart."

April must have turned away from the phone for a moment because she shouted something to whoever had walked into the store. Ryan gripped the phone hard.

"You promise you'll ring me back?"

He could almost feel the smile coming down the phone.

"I promise," she said, and then she cursed again. "Wait, there's no point me calling your phone if it's not working, but I don't know your home number?"

Ryan felt a cold shard drop in his stomach.

"I, I don't either," he said. "I'll go ask Cody and then I'll call you back?"

"I'll might be in the basement, maybe just leave a message?"

"Okay."

He didn't want to hang up, but he could hear someone in the background talking to April. It was time to end the call. He gripped the phone again, scared to hang up.

"Thanks, April," he said, trying to convey everything he felt in just a few words. "Thanks for, for everything."

Ryan took a shuddering breath as he hung up the phone. He had done it. He'd made contact. He'd spoken to April. She was going to speak to his brothers. He just had to wait a little longer.

But something was niggling at the back of his mind, two things in fact. The first was Raphael. April's words echoed around his head.

"No," she said, her voice slow and measured. "We aren't talking, we haven't been for a while. I don't think anyone's seen much of Raphael lately either, apparently he's rarely home. He hasn't spoken to you?"

And then.

"I can assure you, Leo," April said. "Don and Mike haven't forgotten you. They were devastated when Raphael said you didn't want to talk to any of them."

What was Raphael doing if he wasn't visiting him in Long Island, and he wasn't at home with the rest of his family? Did he have another lost brother (unlikely) he was visiting? And what about telling everyone he didn't want to speak to them? It didn't make sense.

And then there was his phone.

He flicked his phone open and closed a few times.

April said Michelangelo and Donatello had tried to call and text him, but that wasn't true. He had the proof here, on his phone. He opened his messages.

The last message he received had been from Raphael, the day he had gone to visit them in the lair. He flicked back through his messages. Everything had seemed fine until that day and since, it was like his messages had just stopped.

He flicked out to the main menu. He shut the phone and opened it, once again thinking his messages would magically appear—they didn't. He even shook the phone, as if expecting them to rattle out of somewhere. Nothing.

He took a deep breath and opened his phone again. Ryan had spent many hours looking at this phone, hoping it would ring, and it never had. He wrinkled his eyes, clicking on the Messages button. Nothing. He didn't need to click on the Images icon to know there was nothing in there either, just pixels depicting what he was missing. The Contacts hadn't helped him. That only left another icon titled: Misc. He'd opened it and found a few icons he'd never really paid attention too.

There appeared to be a Settings button, another icon called Tracker, whatever that meant, and then he saw something he'd never noticed before.

Trash.

For some reason, he was holding his breath. He clicked on the icon and suddenly, his phone filled with lists of unread messages and unanswered calls.

His eyes widened and he scrolled through. April was right. Mike and Don had tried to call him, numerous times. There were texts. Texts asking him to answer. He scrolled further. Texts asking if he was okay. Checking on him. Seeing how he was. Asking him to answer their calls. So many texts asking him to answer their calls. That they were sorry.

Ryan scrolled back further and further and almost laughed with sheer abandonment. His family had been trying to reach him, but his phone had been sending everything to the trash. Given the time stamp, the glitch had happened around the time he'd got back to Long Island.

Relief flooded him and he smiled for the first time in weeks. This was all a misunderstanding. A simple misunderstanding.

But then he realised something.

There were no texts or calls from Raphael. In all that time, the one he'd had the most contact with over the last few months had not tried to contact him once.

And then, as if struck out of the blue, he remembered one time when he had been without his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Found your phone on the car seat."

Ryan took a shaky breath in. Had Raphael done something to his phone? It was the only time Ryan had been without it, and the glitch had happened around then.

But why would Raphael do that? It didn't make sense.

Ryan rubbed his hand over his arms, close to where the bruises had been. His brothers outburst hadn't made sense either. Suddenly, pieces slowly started to fall into place, and a question buzzed in his mind, one Ryan couldn't decide if he actually wanted to ask.

Maybe Raphael was hiding something from him? And maybe, messing with his phone was an attempt to stop him learning the truth?

Ryan wanted to dismiss the thought. The Raphael he knew wouldn't do that too him. He'd always protected him.

He rubbed his arm again.

Then again, he never thought Raphael would hurt him either.

Suddenly, waiting for Donatello to call didn't seem like the best use of his time. He didn't want to confront Raphael, but there was someone else he trusted who might be able to help. Shutting his eyes, Ryan picked up the receiver again and dialled April. After he left a message with his plans, he was going to find Cody and ask him to drive him to April's store. He had some questions he wanted answered.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**A puzzle is a puzzle until it's solved, and then it can become a problem.**

Donatello's family always thought he liked puzzles. Any puzzle books found while scavenging were quickly handed over to the resident genius, who would bury himself in them until he had solved each and every one. As he got older, simple puzzle books gave way to machinery and mathematical equations, yet everyone still had the same conclusions: Donatello likes puzzles.

No, Donatello thought. He pursed his lips and lent back in his chair, twiddling his phone between his fingers. No, I don't like puzzles. I like solving puzzles. It's two different things.

His eyes glanced around his room, taking in the countless projects cluttering the space, and he reached the answer he'd always known.

I don't like not knowing the answer to a problem.

Donatello glanced down at the phone again and reread the texts. He had left his phone in his laboratory; scared it would buzz and distract him in the middle of working on the lairs electrical systems. It had been delicate work, and he's chosen it specifically so he had to concentrate. Concentrate hard. He didn't want his mind to wander, as it had done over the last few days. The last few weeks. To wander and analyse the situation with his family. With his brother. With Leonardo.

It was only when he returned to his lab he'd finally seen the text from April. She'd written so much it had spread over three messages. And it presented a puzzle, one that had been building in his mind over the last few weeks, months (years?) and now, he felt like he was almost at an answer.

His train of thought was broken by a loud noise coming from the kitchen and Donatello cocked his head, listening. Wooden chair legs had scraped against stone flooring and then something indistinguishable was shouted across the space. There was a moment's peace before a pair of feet stomped their way across the lair, and a door was slammed shut with enough force to be felt in Canada.

Placing the phone on his workbench, Donatello wandered into the kitchen. Michelangelo was sitting at the table surrounded by comic books, a stunned look on his face. Don folded his arms and lent against the counter.

"What happened this time?"

"I-I don't know," Michelangelo said. He cast his eyes from his brother towards the door that had just slammed, and then lowered his voice. "All I did was ask if he'd heard from Leo, and he just exploded."

Mike raised an eyebrow in question at his older brother.

"He's had a shorter fuse than usual since he came back from Long Island. And he won't talk about it."

Back in his lab, Donatello mulled over this new information.

Michelangelo was right. Raphael had an even shorter fuse than usual since he'd came back from Long Island, but that had been weeks ago. He now barely left his room during the day and though he disappeared at night, the growing collection of bruises he carried spoke more to picking fights in New York then making his usual trip out to Long Island.

"All I did was ask if he'd heard from Leo, and he just exploded."

And they hadn't heard from Leonardo since they'd picked up Raphael. He didn't think his brother had spoken to him either. Donatello had been the one to make the drive out to Long Island. He'd hoped he could speak to Leonardo, check he was okay, but the way Raphael had got into the Battle Shell and slammed the door had pushed the idea out of his mind.

"Is he—"

"He doesn't want to talk to us," Raphael snarled. "He doesn't want anything to do with us. He said he'd contact us when he's ready."

Donatello had left it at that. If Leonardo wanted space, he'd give him space. He had text him a few times and called, Michelangelo too, but when those weren't answered, they knew their brother was serious.

This wasn't the first time Leonardo had dropped off the face of the earth but this time…

This time, it felt different.

Donatello pursed his lips.

And then Leonardo called April, and April text him, and now Donatello had a puzzle to solve. The problem was, Donatello knew he didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle. He needed more information.

There was another loud slam of a bedroom door, followed moments later by the door that lead into the sewers. Picking up his phone, Donatello wandered into the centre of the lair.

Michelangelo was now seated on the sofa, a horror movie flashing across the multiple screens of the television.

"Grumpy's gone," he muttered as Donatello came to stand behind him.

"Did he say when he'd be back?"

"I don't speak growl."

He smiled fondly at his younger brother. He watched the flickering screens for a moment before he asked: "Did you receive a text from April?"

"No," Mikey said, turning to face him. "Should've I?"

Don shook his head, but was saved from saying anything else because his brother's attention was again captured by the movie.

Glancing at the lair's clock, Donatello noticed this was about the usual time Raphael left the lair. He'd disappear for a few hours, only to return in the early hours of the morning.

That gave Donatello a window of opportunity.

As an added precaution, he flipped his phone open and pulled up the tracker app. The dot which was Raphael was heading as far away from the lair as possible, making his way swiftly through the sewers. With a few key strokes, Donatello set an alert that would notify him when Raphael was within fifteen minutes of home, but he doubted he would need it. Given how fast his brother was moving, he wasn't going to be coming home anytime soon.

With one last glance at Michelangelo to check his attention was firmly held by the televisions (it was), he turned and instead of heading for his lab, he headed in the opposite direction: towards Raphael's room.

Donatello had some questions he needed answered.

xxx

Closing the door softly behind himself with a click, Donatello took a moment to survey his brother's domain. He knew he was taking a huge risk being in here. This was an invasion of privacy on a scale he didn't feel comfortable with. Though, he'd feel a lot guiltier if he didn't know about the tracking device stored on the phone Raphael had given Leonardo.

Donatello rolled his eyes.

What does he think? I wouldn't remember the software I installed on my own creations? Jerk.

Don cast his eyes over the hammock, weights set, chest of drawers, and promptly ignored them. Instead, his eyes settled on his brother's desk, before sliding to his bookcase.

There wasn't much on the desk. A couple of magazines, a stack of blank paper, and some pens. A laptop was nestled in the corner and though Don knew it would take only a minute to hack in, he decided to leave it until last. Hopefully he wouldn't need it but if that was the only way he could get an answer to his puzzle, then his personal misgivings could be damned.

He turned his attention to the bookcase and took a moment to marvel. Unlike the rest of the room, the bookcase was neat and tidy. Every ring-binder file or notebook had a title of some kind, ranging from Maps to Targets to Research, and the different categories were grouped together. And then Donatello hit pay dirt.

He'd found Raphael's journals.

Bingo.

It had surprised him when he first learnt his temperamental brother, the hothead of the family, the short-tempered destroyer of anything that got in his way, was able to take such detailed notes about the search for their brother. The pages were filled with information on where they went, who they spoke to, research on the companies they targeted, and the ones they were going to in the future—all recorded in his brother strong slanted writing.

It's almost like finding Leo became an obsession for him.

Donatello filed that information away to puzzle over later, before grabbing the first journal. They were all filed in date order, the one in his hand starting not two days after Leonardo disappeared.

Leos still missing. We searched the area beneath and to the north of the Bayside Bridge, only stopping when the sun was rising. We found nothing.

He read how their search slowly morphed into a recover mission after the body of the Foot Soldier was found, the assumption their brother had suffered the same fate. Donatello shuddered at the nightmares he'd had, and sometimes still did, of finding his brothers' decomposing body drifting among the other trash in the East River. He shut that journal and grabbed another, words jumping out at him as he skimmed through it.

… Broke into a research facility dealing with genetic mutation …

… Chased down some Purple Dragons last night. Don said I went too far but they walked away …

… Spoke to the Professor. Seen no sign of Leo or heard anything …

… Don hacked the NYPD database. Nothing …

… Searched the east side. No sign of Leo. Nothing. Again …

He reread the fights between the family members about whether Leonardo was alive. He noted the sections about Raphael's conflict with Casey, about Casey pressuring Raphael to give up.

… Fought with Casey again. Going out tonight. Haven't told Casey …

He read the multiple incidents of false hope they'd all dived into with abandonment. The reported sightings that turned out to be nothing. He felt the same crushing weight of despair he'd felt then, but this time it was different. That puzzle had been solved. His brother was alive and had been living in Long Island. Without any memory. Alone. Lost.

He sighed and put that journal away, before reaching for another.

Donatello wasn't sure why he did it, skim reading all those journals. The rollercoaster of emotions made him sick, but he was still searching for something. He'd just finished the period when the family had gone to the farm to 'bury' Leonardo when he noticed something.

… I miss him …

Donatello blinked. Not from the show of emotion, but the sudden shift. From being dry and almost forensic, the journal entries began to take on a life of their own as Raphael started to fill them with parts of himself.

… searched the old lair and surrounding area yesterday. Hasn't been disturbed since the last time we visited. Found the area where we used to build forts, still remember how much fun …

… came across that ice cream stand Leo used to sneak cones from …

… went through Leo's room looking for any clues to where he might be or where he might go. Found Master Splinter's birthday present instead. Didn't know he'd bought anything …

… broke into the research facility again. No reason, I just hoped …

… I can't do this anymore …

Donatello was placing one journal back when a blue book half way down the case caught his eye. He knew the date; it was about the time his brother crashed into one of his deepest depressions. Out of all the lines he'd crossed that day, he knew reading this journal was a line he shouldn't cross and if he did, there was no going back. He bit his lip for a moment and weighed up the options.

He had to know.

Against his better judgement, he flipped open the book to the first page and came to a stop.

… this is all my fault …

Donatello snapped the journal shut and took a deep breath. He could feel his heart pounding.

Is this it? he thought. Is this all the answers to my questions? Are the answers in this book?

Yes, it felt like the answer was yes. It scared him. His hands shaking, he checked his phone and saw Raphael was hanging around the east side, far from the lair, and far from knowing what was happening in his room. Reassured he had the time; he grabbed several journals and settled on the floor. Shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, he let the first journal flop open in his lap and started to read. When he finished that journal, he didn't stop but started on the next. And the next. And every journal after, until he read the last sentence of Raphael's most recent entry.

As he sat in the silence of the lair, the silence of his brother's room, a thought slowly bounced around Donatello's mind.

He wrote this entry today. That bastard wrote that today.

Donatello looked down at the journal in his lap, at the words across the page.

… Why can't Leo leave this alone? …

… Why does he need to know? About the alleyway? About the bridge? About, about that? …

… I don't know what to do …

… I wish I'd never found him …

Donatello's eyes narrowed. He didn't know exact details, but he knew enough to make an assumption. Enough to see deception for what it was. The pieces were starting to fall into place and he knew what he had to do next.

He grabbed for his phone, and looked at the messages he had received from April that sent him on his hunt.

A: I tried to call, but you didn't answer. Leo called me. He said he'd been trying to reach you for weeks. He thinks Raphael did something to his phone? He wasn't receiving calls or texts, and only just found them in the Trash

A: folder. He asked Cody to drive him to my shop. He wants to talk to me, but I don't think I'll have the answers he seeks. I don't understand what's happening. I think you and Mike should come over too?

A: If he's right, why would Raph do that?

Without a second thought, Donatello finally text back.

D: We're on our way over. I think I finally understand. Or at least, understand something. I need to talk to Leo. I need to talk to you.

Donatello sat back for a moment, and then added at the end.

D: Raphael is going to have a lot of explaining to do.

xxx

Donatello sat on the sofa in April's apartment. Michelangelo sat uncomfortably next to him and behind, April paced from one side of her apartment to the other. Her head was down and Donatello knew that look—she was deep, deep in thought.

He glanced down at her clenched fists. She was also angry.

Leonardo sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, Cody beside him with an unreadable look on his face.

"I thought I could trust him," Leonardo said. His voice was hollow and he didn't meet anyone's eyes. "I believed everything he told me, about everyone. But after what you've just told me…"

He finally glanced up at the others.

"I'm sorry."

Cody grasped his shoulder.

"It's not your fault," he said. "I think—he paused and looked around the room—I think he fooled everyone."

Donatello nodded but said nothing.

Spread out in front was what Don had come to call his 'evidence'. In one pile were Raphael's journals. He'd only been able to bring a few, but there was enough there to make his point.

Next to them was Leonardo's phone. It had taken him less than twenty seconds to ascertain the true nature of the lacking calls and texts. He had to hand it to Raphael; it had been a clever move. If you wanted to keep a secret from someone, the best way to do it was to make sure they couldn't talk to anyone who might tell them something else.

And then the other pieces of evidence were the people around him, and their experiences.

April = Raphael had pushed her away from the family when she'd pushed him to reveal Leonardo.

Michelangelo = Raphael had used him to get April to back off, but had also made him lie to his family about Leonardo.

Donatello = He was still figuring out everything his brother had done to him.

And finally, Leonardo. Leo had trusted him, and then Raphael had used that against him. Blinded him with that trust. Twisted it into a lie.

Their brother had weaved a web of lies around them all, but in such a chaotic fashion Don doubted Raphael had meant to do it. It seemed like one lie led to the next, and to the next.

"Why?" Michelangelo said, voicing the one question that echoed silently around the room. "I don't understand why he did this?"

He threw his arms wide.

"What did he hope to gain?"

Donatello shrugged.

"There's only one person that can answer that. We need to speak to him—tonight"

Leonardo's voice cut through the room.

"I don't want to see him."

Everyone looked up in surprise.

"I just, I, I can't."

Donatello smiled softly, hoping it was a comfort.

"You don't need too," he said. "We'll deal with Raphael, and we'll tell you what we learn."

He felt Michelangelo gulp beside him. He wasn't looking forward to confronting their brother either, but it had to be done.

April cleared his voice.

"You can stay here until—"

Leonardo was already shaking his head.

"Thank you, but I want to go back to Long Island." He looked at his brothers. "I won't disappear this time, I promise, but I just, I just don't want to risk that he'll come here. I don't want to see him."

He looked briefly at Cody and winched.

"Sorry for making you drive so much."

Cody smiled and shrugged.

"It's good practise."

With that sorted, Donatello turned back to the items before him. He glanced at the tracker app and realised Raphael was heading home.

Good, he thought. It's time we had a chat.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: Thank you as always to everyone who has reviewed :)

* * *

**Raphael reaps what he sowed.**

Raphael had just taken his first gulp of beer when he heard quick footsteps coming towards him. He looked up as Donatello came into the lair's kitchen, followed slowly by Michelangelo. His younger brother took him in for a moment, a furious look growing on his face, and before Raphael could wonder 'What've I done now?', Donatello snarled at him.

"You're a bastard, you know that. When were you going to tell us?"

Raphael blinked.

What's he on about? he thought.

After his earlier run in with Michelangelo, Raphael had spent the night using his fists to vent on the east side. Like he'd done since he'd left Leonardo in Long Island. That was also the last time he'd spoken to his brother.

It had been surprisingly easy, to avoid his brother. Leonardo had questions Raphael didn't want to answer, which meant he just didn't talk to him. He knew it wasn't a long term solution, but it was a solution.

Instead of worrying about his lost brother and his questions, he focused his energy on the crime rate of the streets and used his fists to do something about it. This was a problem he could solve; at least, that was what he told himself.

That night, he'd stopped a mugging, scared the hell out of some teenagers trying to sell drugs down a dark alley, and even had time to slip an ice cream from his favourite cart. He'd returned home and pulled the cap off a beer he'd discovered forgotten at the back of the fridge. All in all, he felt like he'd been having a good night, until now.

"Get lost, Don," he said, deciding he didn't care what his brother was so worked up about. "I'm not in the mood for dealing with you."

Donatello's eyes narrowed, as if upset the other turtle didn't immediately know what he was talking about, and he threw something onto the kitchen table.

It took Raphael a moment to understand what he was seeing.

The bottle slipped from his fingers and smashed on the concrete floor. Sitting in the middle of the kitchen table were his journals.

Raphael froze, a single thought running through his head.

No. No, he wouldn't have gone into my room … he wouldn't have read … read about …

Donatello's voice was harsh as it echoed around the quiet kitchen.

"I don't know everything, but I know enough. You did something the night Leonardo disappeared."

His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

"You did something and you never told us, and you've been lying about it ever since."

Donatello drew himself up to full height.

"What did you do?"

Raphael was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on his journals. Then slowly, he closed his hands into fists, his nails biting into the flesh of his palm, and he raised his head to glare at his brother.

"You went in my room?" he growled.

"I went looking for the truth." Donatello snatched up one of the journals and waved it in his face. "And I found it. You did something."

Raphael made a wild grab across the table, but Donatello darted back a step.

"Give it back, Don," he warned, his voice shaking with rage. "Give. It. Back."

Donatello shook his head.

"You don't get to lie to us anymore," he whispered, opening the journal to the first page. With a snarl, Raphael charged but Donatello kept the kitchen table between them, his eyes darting from the journal to his brothers enraged face.

"August 25th: 'This is all my fault'. What was your fault Raphael? What did you do?"

"Don't read that—"

"'September 3rd: I think this guilt will eat me up until there's nothing left.'"

"Stop it, Don—"

"October 8th: Sometimes I think they know what I did. I see their eyes on me, or they'll say—"

"I'm warning you—"

"November 15th: I just wish I had one chance to change what I—"

With a roar, Raphael drew his weapons and threw himself across the table, slamming a sai into the journals' cover and piercing it all the way through. Michelangelo cried out in shock and Donatello dropped the book and stumbled backwards, his hand coming up to the eye he'd almost lost to the pointy end of his brother's weapon. But Raphael wasn't done. With another roar, he dropped to his knees and stabbed the journal, his sai chipping at the concrete floor beneath, again and again and again until it was almost shredded paper in his hand. With a final snarl, he threw his sai to the side and picked up the book, his muscles tensing as he tore it down the middle before throwing the pieces to the floor. He then rounded on his brother.

Sweat glistened and ran down his face. He was panting, panting as if he'd just returned from a run. The blood pounding in his ears made it almost impossible to hear his brother's next words. Almost.

"You're a bastard," Donatello repeated. "An absolute bastard."

Raphael took a step towards his brother, but was brought up short by two words.

"W-what?"

The words bounced around his head but his mind raced, hoping upon hope he hadn't heard what he thought he had. Donatello fixed his eyes on his brother and repeated.

"He knows."

Raphael froze. Time seemed to slow as he stared at his brother, not believing what had happened. What he had just heard. Raphael felt his throat closing in on him, making it hard for him to breathe. There was only one he in this scenario, but no, Donatello wouldn't have. He wouldn't.

"W-what do you mean h-he knows? What does he know? How?"

"I knew something was up," Don said. "The way you've been acting recently. I had my doubts but I needed proof—he spread his arms out towards the journals—and then I found it. Leonardo wanted to talk, by the way—Donatello smirked at him—I was surprised at your hack with the phone, very clever. Anyway, he asked Cody to drive him over to April's—"

"He was here! You let Cody drive him here!"

Donatello narrowed his eyes.

"That should be the least of your worries. Leo knows you've been lying. He knows about your lies about me. He knows about April. He knows you've been keeping something from him and doing your hardest to stop everyone getting close to him."

Donatello threw his hands in the air.

"What were you thinking, Raphael! Did you think you could keep Leo in the dark forever! That he'd never ask questions, questions you'd have to answer. I never thought you'd have it in you, but you positioned yourself so well."

Raphael was quiet for a moment, and then he asked in a shaky voice.

"What exactly does he know?"

Donatello shook his head in disgust.

"He knows you did something. And you've lied about it since you met him. Lied to your family since that night."

"Why?" Raphael said, his voice trembling. "Why'd you do it?"

Donatello's eyes narrowed.

"It's the truth! He deserved to know!"

"And did you tell him the truth about you and Mikey!" Raphael shouted, throwing his arms wide. "Did you tell him about how you buried him without waitin' to find his body? Did you tell him how you gave up on our brother! You! Gave! Up!"

Raphael laughed, a sharp harsh sound that cut across the lair.

"Or did you forget that part? Of course you did. It didn't fit in with your story."

Raphael took a deep breath before he screamed at his brother.

"I made one mistake Don, one!"

"I told him tonight," Donatello said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would've told him earlier, I wanted too, but you certainly saw to that. I told Leo everything. About the farm, about the grave—everything!"

Donatello shut his eyes as if trying to hide himself from a harsh truth.

"You said the guilt would eat you up, well since Leo returned, that guilt has eaten me. If I'd looked harder, maybe we would have found him earlier. If I'd kept searching, maybe he wouldn't have suffered as much as he did. But the truth is, I gave up. And I made the rest of my family give up as well."

He looked at his brother with tears in his eyes.

"I gave up on him and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life. But I told him the truth and he forgave me."

Donatello fixed his eyes on his brother.

"Whatever you did, we deserved to know then, and he deserves to know now. This clearly affects us and it definitely affects Leo. What did you do?"

Raphael took a step back. The shaky tower he'd built over the years was starting to fall, and he could do nothing but watch it burn.

"I searched for him, everywhere. I—"

"You did, no one is denying that, but I'm starting to think you did all of this—he waved his hand at the journals and then up towards his room where the rest of his research was—out of guilt, rather than out of love."

Donatello shook his head and smiled sadly.

"And I don't think the last few weeks and months have been any different."

The words carried around the silent lair. Raphael shook his head, trying to deny the words that were burying into his soul.

"This, this isn't my fault."

He couldn't reconcile the shaky voice with his own, but he'd felt his lips move.

Donatello shrugged.

"It never is, Raphael. It never is."

Thoughts bubbled around his head, colliding with each other, until he wasn't sure what he was thinking or wanted to say. So, he said the first thing that came to his mind. Raphael glanced around the lair but could see no one but them.

"Where is he?"

Donatello looked away but Michelangelo finally spoke.

"Cody's driving him home to Long Island. He's pretty angry, I wouldn't—Raph! Raphael! Wait!"

Raphael didn't listen. He was running towards the Utron elevator as he dialled Leonardo's mobile. He cursed when the call disconnected and when he called back, the phone didn't ring.

He turned his phone off...

Cursing again, Raphael booted the tracker app. His brothers last known location wasn't too far from April's, heading towards the nearest bridge, and he knew he could cover the distance quickly on his bike. The way he felt and the emotions running through him wasn't going to make for safe driving, but he just didn't care.

He had to find his brother.

xxx

Raphael paid no attention to the furious honking surrounding him. Lights and cars flashed past as he weaved in and out of the traffic. He ignored stop signs and traffic lights. A part of him knew he wasn't going to survive long, especially when he clipped the side mirror of a car as he sped past, only managing to keep his bike steady through sheer force of will. But he was gaining on his brother, he had to be.

"Come on!" Raphael screamed, twisting hard on his accelerator as he pushed his bike to go faster than he ever had before, ignoring the whine of the motor as it was sent past its limit.

He could see the bridge coming closer and knew that was the line. If his brother crossed over it, he would be lost forever.

The traffic briefly thinned and he was able to get a better look at what was ahead. His brother was here, somewhere, in a sea of car roofs and blinking tail lights, and he had to bury the fear he'd never find them.

He'd just past a large SUV when relief flooded him. Cody's car was only a few hundred metres ahead, moving at an expected grandfathers pace as he navigated New York's traffic. Raphael revved his bike and shot forward again.

A moment later, his hand slammed into the window on Cody's side.

"Pull over!" he screamed, knowing in the back of his mind Cody couldn't hear him. He slammed his hand into the window again for good measure, feeling relief as Cody jerked the wheel, sending the car onto an off-ramp. Raphael kept pace with the vehicle until Cody pulled into an abandoned multistorey parking lot several moments later, finally pulling his car to a stop about halfway up.

Raphael had already parked his bike and thrown his helmet to the floor, when the passenger door opened.

"Leo, I'm—"

WHAM

A fist connected with the side of Raphael's head. Small white dots exploded in his vision and it took several blinks to clear them, and for the red turtle to realise he was on the ground. His head throbbing, Raphael staggered to his feet with a loud groan, throwing out a hand to balance himself as he turned to face his brother.

Leonardo stood over him, his teeth bared and his hands clenched in two tight fists. The relief Raphael had previously felt evaporated as he began to realise how angry his older brother was.

"Leo, I'm—"

"What?" Leonardo snapped, taking a step towards him. "You're what? You're sorry? Don't even start with that. You have no right to be sorry. Don told me what you've been doing. I know the truth. You lied to me. You've done nothing but lie to me."

"Leo, if you'll just let me explain—"

Leonardo threw his hand out to the side.

"I don't want to hear anything from you," he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty car lot. "You lied to me! I trusted you and you've done nothing but lie! You lied to me, to Mike, to Don. You lied to April. To your father. You're still lying. You, you…"

Leonardo appeared lost for words. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts for what he wanted to say next.

"Don said you did something the night I disappeared," he said, slowly raising his head to fix his eyes on his brother. "What did you do?"

"Leo," Raphael begged. "It doesn't matter. What will it change?"

Leonardo's eyes widened.

"What does it matter? What does it matter! It matters because you lied. You've done nothing but lie since I met you."

"I searched for you, everywhere! I didn't stop when everyone else did. I didn't stop when they told me you were dead. I didn't stop when they moved on. I turned this city upside down for you! How would it help knowing what happened? What would it change?"

"I deserve to know."

"But what would it change?!" Raphael argued. He threw his hands in the air. He could feel himself losing this battle, but he wasn't going to stop. He knew his brother was slipping further away, like he had all those nights ago as he'd slipped beneath the waves. But he couldn't admit the truth. He could feel something breaking inside him but he was going to hold onto this sinking ship, even as it carried him down to the depths.

"Everything!" Leonardo's eyes were wide with anger. "If you can't tell me this, what else haven't you told me? How can I ever trust you again?"

Leo drew himself up until he seemed to tower over his brother.

"I'm giving you one last chance to tell me," he said. "One last chance."

"I found you—"

"You didn't find me," Leonardo snarled. "April found me. Or I found April. You had nothing to do with it."

Raphael staggered; it almost felt like his brother had struck him again.

"You don't know what this has done to me!" Raphael screamed, tears starting to collect in the corner of his eyes. "You don't know what I've been through!"

Leonardo laughed, a loud empty sound.

"What it's done to you? Poor Raphael. But you forget brother—he all but spat the word—You got to go home after that night. You got to go home, Raphael! I-I've never been able to do that. I've never been able to go home."

Leonardo shook his head and turned away.

"Fine, don't tell me. I don't care. But I'm done. I'm done with all of this."

It was Raphael's turn to laugh.

"That's right," he said, his laughter sounding half-crazed in the emptiness of the carpark. "Go back to Long Island. Go back to your life there."

He sneered towards Cody who was now standing awkwardly beside the car door.

"Go live with your new human family. You always thought you were better than us. You always thought you were too good for the sewers."

He narrowed his eyes and screamed at his brother.

"If you're done with us, then we're done with you."

Leonardo paused for a second, his hand on the car door.

"I didn't say I was done with this family," Leonardo murmured. He didn't turn back, didn't look at Raphael, and though his voice was quiet, it still carried so much weight. "I'm said I'm done with you."

Raphael felt his legs give way underneath him.

… no … no, he didn't mean it …

"Leo?" he said as his brother's last words carried round and round his head. He reached out towards him. "Leo! Leo, wait! WAIT!"

Without a backwards glance, Leonardo got into the car and shut the door. The door clicking was like the final toll of a bell.

Raphael wanted to beg his brother to come back but instead, he screamed a tirade of abuse. His hands scrambling across the ground, he picked up pieces of broken glass and pelted the car with it. He screamed as the car slowly pulled out of the parking bay. And he screamed as his brother was slowly driven away.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

Note: Thank you to everyone that has shared this journey with me, and a special thank you to everyone that has reviewed.

* * *

**Brother, Lost**

R: I'm sorry.

Raphael's finger hovered over his phone. Why was this text so hard to send? Because he wasn't good at expressing himself? Because two words didn't quite sum up everything he wanted to say. Everything he'd done. Instead of sending the text, he hurled the phone across the room and buried his face in his hands.

How did it come to this? he thought. How did I let this happen?

After Leonardo and Cody had driven out of the parking lot, Raphael had waited. Waited and waited, sure his brother was going to come back. Sure it had all been a dream. He had been so sure.

He was wrong. Leonardo hadn't come back. He'd sat there, alone, in that parking lot, tears running down his face and his hands bleeding from the broken glass.

He had nowhere to go. He couldn't go after Leonardo. His brother had made it quite clear how he felt about Raphael.

… I'm done …

He couldn't go back to the lair. He couldn't face Don. Mikey. His father would know by now, Donatello wouldn't have hesitated to tell him. Show him his journals. Read out those few select passages.

The words he'd written so long ago echoed in his mind.

… This is all my fault …

… I think this guilt will eat me up until there's nothing left …

… Sometimes I think they know what I did. I see their eyes on me, or they'll say …

… I just wish I had one chance to change what happened, what I did …

His mind echoed back to earlier that night.

"I'm giving you one last chance to tell me," Leonardo said. "One last chance."

Raphael had his chance. And he'd lost it.

Not knowing where to go and having run out of options, he made his way to the only place he could think of.

xxx

Casey had never changed the useless locks on his windows. Raphael barely had to twist his sai before they popped open. As he scrambled in, he was hit by the musty smell of an unused apartment mixed with the other smells he had long associated with his human friend—sweat, dirty washing.

Standing in that house, Raphael suddenly had a strong urge to call his friend. Was Casey still his friend? He hadn't talked to him since their last fight.

How long ago was that? Our fight, he wondered, running a hand along the kitchen cupboard, drawing it back to find it covered in dust.

The fight had happened before Casey and April broke up. It occurred to him he should have called to see how his so-called best friend was coping after the breakup. But Raphael hadn't, he'd secretly been happy because it meant one last person around to whisper that his brother was dead.

Don was right, he was a bastard.

Not wanting to think anymore, not wanting to feel, he did the only thing that made sense to him. He walked over to the fridge and found a couple of forgotten six packs. A bottle of bourbon.

"Bingo," he muttered.

It wasn't enough for him to drink himself into a coma, but it was a start.

xxx

A quiet buzzing trickled into Raphael's consciousness and brought him out of his doze. He blinked at his strange surroundings, taking a moment to work out where he was. He was lying on Casey's dirty sofa, a half-finished bottle sitting in front of him.

Then it all came back. Don. Mike. His journals. Leonardo. The car park. Screaming.

… Oh …

The apartment was quiet for a moment before something started buzzing again. The sound was burrowing into his skull and he glanced around, finally zeroing in on something in the corner of the room.

His phone.

He flopped back down on the sofa.

Let it ring, he thought bitterly. There's no one I want to talk to.

He lay there as his phone rang out, welcoming the silence for a moment before it started buzzing again. Letting out a string of curses, Raphael roughly got to his feet and stumbled over to it.

The screen light blinded him for a moment before he got a brief glimpse. It was after 2 am and his stomach suddenly plummeted. There were ten missed calls and five new messages. Three of the calls were from Don, another from Michelangelo, but the vast majority were from Cody. Coldness started to grip him as he immediately called Cody back.

The phone answered on the first ring.

The noise coming from the phone was loud and chaotic. He could make out a woman's voice over a speaker, someone paging someone from somewhere, and it drowned out Cody's frantic voice.

"Cody, I can't hear you," Raphael said, his fear at the unknown growing larger by the second. "What did you say? I can't hear you."

"I'm sorry," Cody babbled. "I just woke up and he's not here. I don't remember where he went. I don't know where he is. No one will tell me anything."

Raphael felt like he'd been dipped in cold water. He sat down sharply on the sofa, gripping his phone hard.

"What happened? Where are you? Where's Leo?"

"I don't know," Cody said, his voice bordering on panic. "I'm at a hospital. I, I just woke. The nurses said I was unconscious for about an hour."

Raphael heard Cody take a shaky breath.

"They said I was in a crash. I-I wasn't the only one, it was a pileup. It had started to rain and the other driver hadn't seen we'd all stopped. He—Cody's voice broke—some of the other drivers didn't make it."

Raphael gripped the phone harder.

"Where is my brother? Where's Leo?"

"I-I don't know."

xxx

Raphael lifted his head just high enough over the roof-line to take in the sight below him. He shuddered.

What was left of Cody's car was a mess. It looked like a giant had taken both ends of the car and pulled until the insides burst out. Yet, it was only one of many. The crash had occurred on an overpass now strewn with twisted metal and glass. Raphael glanced at the bodies lying under white tarp and shuddered again. There was no tell-tale shell, no screams of panic at the 'monster' that had been found, but it still felt like an omen. And it begged the question: How did Leonardo walk away from that crash?

"Do you think he's…?"

Michelangelo let the question hang in the air.

"There'd be more cops," Donatello said matter-of-fact. Raphael glanced at his brother and Don shrugged. "If he was still there, they would have cordoned off the area, for miles."

A small flicker of hope flared in Raphael's chest. If Leo was able to get away, he was able to move. To walk. It was better than what they hoped for.

Raphael had barely hung up the phone from Cody before he was out Casey's window. In his panic, he didn't even think about getting his bike, he'd taken to the rooftops and run like … like …

Like his brother was missing again.

Cody said the crash had happened not far from the car park. Raphael had pushed himself to a point where he was sure he'd done damage, but he was on the rooftop overlooking the scene much faster than should've been possible. And it was there he'd met his other brothers. No one mentioned what had happened earlier that night. There was no room within the panic and the fear. They were focused only on one thing.

Leonardo. Where was he? Where was their brother?

"It'll be hours before we can get down there for a better look," Raphael growled. The area was swarming with people; on-lookers, tow-truck drivers, clean-up crews washing away blood, others moving destroyed cars; someone screaming and leaning over a lone figure lying under a white tarp.

"His phone?"

"Still off."

"Any word from April?"

Donatello opened his phone and then shook his head. April had arrived not long after them and gone down to the scene to ask questions, hoping someone had seen something, anything, that might explain what happened to Leonardo. She'd been gone twenty minutes and they'd heard nothing.

"I'm giving her five more minutes and then we're moving on," Raphael said.

Donatello grabbed his shoulder.

"And go where? We don't know where he is? Which way he was heading?"

Raphael shrugged his brother off.

"I've search for him before," he hissed, "I'll find him."

Donatello's eyes narrowed but he was saved from saying anything when April's head appeared on the rooftops.

"Anythin—"

She shook her head.

"No one saw anything," she said. "Everyone just said there was a loud crash and then all the cars were piling up."

She shuddered.

"It's a mess down there. If he got away, he has to be injured."

If he got away.

Raphael shut his eyes and turned away. This wasn't the time to despair. His brother was alive. He had to be alive.

"What do we do now?" Michelangelo asked.

"We go find him," Raphael snapped. "He's somewhere in New York, alone and injured. He can't be far. We need to find him and find him fast."

He narrowed his eyes at his brothers.

"I know this area well. Mikey—he turned to his brother—you need to search down the east side under the pass and then take the 3rd street manhole cover. If he went into the sewers, he'll be down there somewhere. Don—he turned to his other brother—you need to search towards the west. You go too April. I'll take the rooftops. Check-in every five minutes."

He thought his brothers were going to argue but after a moment, they nodded and hurried off. There were no backwards glances, no comments; they were all focused on the task at hand. They could all go back to hating him when they found their brother.

Alone on the rooftop, Raphael took one last glance down at the car before turning to run. And froze.

He hadn't quite realised where he was. Or more, where he was in relation to the past.

Just behind, the one place they hadn't been looking, perfectly nestled between two buildings, was a clear view of the Bayside Bridge. The place where everything that had lead them to this point had started.

Suddenly, he knew where Leo was.

xxx

Raphael had spent years traversing this city. On training runs. On patrol. Years by himself, pounding the pavement, searching and searching and searching. It almost felt nice to run with a destination in mind, a purpose.

Without a word to the others, not until he was sure (he was sure), Raphael took off across the rooftops towards the bridge. It had started to rain again and the wind was blowing it into his face, reminding him of that night. It felt like he was wading through a dream.

When he reached the bridge, he used his grappling hook to get across from the nearest building. Raphael hoped no one saw him but where he landed was deserted. It seemed the rain, that was now coming down like bullets, had chased everyone away.

"Leo!" he shouted, the wind stealing his voice away. "Leo!"

Over the years, he had come back to this bridge many times and he knew all its' secrets. He used this knowledge to move as quickly as he dared across the underside of the bridge, looking left and right—hoping to see movement.

"Leo!"

Raphael ventured further and further out, sometimes looking down at the raging sea below, watching the waves and knowing one slip would cost him dearly. But he knew his brother was here—somewhere.

"LEO!"

There was a flicker of movement ahead and his breath caught in his throat. Leonardo was sitting perilously close to the edge, his feet dangling over, watching the water roaring beneath him. Raphael kept to the shadows and edged towards him, not wanting to shout again in case he startled him and Leo fell.

As he crept closer, he tried to ascertain how injured his brother was. One hand was clasped to Leonardo's side but the wound didn't appear to be pumping blood. He couldn't see his face. But he was alive. His brother was alive.

Raphael took out his phone and typed a quick message to his other siblings. When he stowed it away, he looked up to see Leonardo had half turned to him, probably tipped off by the light of the phone, though he was still bathed in the darkness of the bridge.

"You're okay, Leo," he said, moving towards his brother. "I'm here. You're okay."

"I remember that night."

Raphael stopped—frozen. Leonardo's voice sounded unfocused, as if he had just woken up. He held up his hands.

"We can talk about it later, but we need to get down from here. It's not safe."

Raphael's eyes flicked to the churning mass of water beneath them and his heart fluttered. It was like that night. Everything was falling back into place.

He turned his eyes back to his brother and held out his hand.

"Please, Leo," he said. "Please. Give me your hand."

Leonardo was quiet for a moment.

"I panicked when that car hit us," he said. "There was blood everywhere. People. The sound was terrible." He shut his eyes tight. "Cody told me to run. He screamed and then he went silent. I should have stayed with him. I shouldn't have run."

"Cody's fine," Raphael said. "He's at the hospital. He called us to come find you."

Leonardo's shoulders slumped in relief.

"Good," he said. "I don't remember what happened after the crash—"

"Leo!" Raphael shouted as a strong gust of wind knocked him and he gripped the bridge harder. "We need to get off this damn bridge!"

"I just ran," Leonardo continued, as if his brother hadn't spoken. "I ran and I ran and then all of a sudden, I could feel something pulling me. And it brought me here."

He looked around.

"This is where it all happened. Here, this bridge."

Leonardo turned and Raphael nearly slipped from his perch. There was a large gash across his brother's forehead and a lot of swelling. He must have hit his head on the dashboard. The blood ran thick and fast, dripping down into the abyss below.

"I remember that night," he repeated.

Raphael froze. The memory of that night was all around them. Leonardo turned to look out again over the river.

"The rain, the wind. The fight on this bridge, it's starting to come back to me." He shook his head and Raphael felt sure he was going to knock himself into the river far below. "But not just that. We fought that night, didn't we? In the alleyway behind April's? You called me a bastard."

Raphael shut his eyes. He'd spent so long blocking the memory, but it now flooded back to him.

"A selfish bastard," he said. "I called you many things. I-I told you I wished you were dead."

Lightning flashed across to their left and the thunder echoed moments later. Leonardo turned back to him.

"You hurt me."

Three words and Raphael could feel tears starting to run down his face.

"I did," he croaked. "We fought and I-I threw you to the ground. You hurt your arm."

"Don and Mike?"

"They weren't there. They didn't see the fight. They didn't know. They still don't know."

Raphael wiped his hand across his face and then cursed at the sky.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he shouted, though his brother was close. "You need to believe me, I'm sorry."

Leonardo scrunched up his face.

"I remember when I fell, I-I reached for you and you reached for me."

Leonardo sat back, as if rocked by a thought.

"You hurt my right arm. I reached with my right arm. That is why I fell. I couldn't hold the grip."

Raphael suddenly let out a sob. It felt like everything he had ever experienced, every emotion was caught in his throat. He struggled to breathe.

"No, Leo," Raphael said, sucking in sharp breaths. "You don't understand."

His brother turned to him and Raphael choked on his words.

"I didn't just lie to you and my family. I've lied to myself," he said. "For years I told myself, again and again and again, the reason you fell was that I hurt your arm and when you reached for me, you pulled it, the injury, and you weren't able to grab on, and that caused you to fall."

Raphael looked up as lightning flashed, this time much closer. He got a good look at his brother face and knew he had his full attention. Though the wind was hollowing and lightning rolled around them, it now almost seemed quiet under the bridge.

He raised his head to look at his brother.

"I think I let go, Leo. I-I didn't mean too. I don't know what happened. One moment, you were in my hand and t-the next, you—Raphael reached his hands up and grasped his own head—you were screaming, I was screaming, and you were falling and t-then, y-you were gone."

Raphael watched as the past seemed to flood past him.

The scaffolding buckling and falling. Leonardo leaping for safety. Raphael lunging for his brother. He felt his brother's hand in his, he felt his hand tighten—

And then he was looking into his brothers wide eyes. He was looking back into the memory of earlier that night. To their fight. He felt his own eyes narrow, that feeling of anger bubbling, of hatred flaring, of that desire to hurt—

And then there was nothing but Leonardo screaming as he plunged into the darkness below.

And Raphael was back in the present.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, but this, this is all my fault. I did this to you."

He threw his arm out to take in the bridge and the river.

"If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have fought. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been injured. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have fallen. If it…" he trailed off.

All of a sudden, all the fight went out of him. All those years of searching. All those days and weeks and months and years of desperately trying to find his brother, his attempt to make amends for what he had done. A truck could have been barrelling down and he would have let it take him. He'd reached his limit and had nothing more to give.

He'd finally confessed. He'd finally told the truth.

Lightning flashed and Raphael saw three things.

The first was his brother. Leonardo was staring at him, blood dripping from the wound in his forehead, like Raphael was a monster. A look of shock and horror. And fear. As if his own brother physically scared him. And the look terrified Raphael.

Second, he watched a bolt of lightning arc overhead, crashing into the bridge above, following by an explosion of sound that slammed into him and probably blew his eardrums. It dazed him and he would've fallen if he hadn't wildly grabbed for the bridge at the last moment.

Third, he watched his brother, startled by the bright flash of light and the loud BOOM, his eyes wide and hands scrambling for purchase, slip. One moment he was there and the next, Leonardo was plunging into the East River.

But this time, Raphael threw himself after him.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Falling. Sinking. Drowning.**

Donatello spoke a lot about time. Time is relative. Time is linear. Time moves in strange ways. Time…

Time does its own thing.

Time was hard to measure. As a child, the time between now and Christmas always seemed so far away, but the time between now and nap time was always too quick. Training seemed to take all the time in the world, yet a cartoon took no time at all.

Raphael could not measure the time between watching the lightning strike the bridge above them, Leonardo plunging downwards, and diving after him. He reacted on instinct and a desire to not repeat the past.

Time slowed as he plunged over the edge. It seemed like forever as he watched the edge of the bridge drift past, revealing the dark abyss beneath. His body lost its horizontal momentum and too soon, his body dipped, and he was plummeting downwards.

And then time, sped up.

Dropping like a stone, he snapped his arms and legs against himself, making himself into a bullet, hoping to gain enough distance on his brother. He dropped faster and faster—but was it enough?—and he opened his mouth and screamed his brother's name.

He didn't know how long it took, how far he fell, or any of the measurements, but there was another flash overhead and he spotted his brother. Leonardo was tumbling through the air, end over end, unable to slow his descent.

Faster.

Raphael shot towards him.

Faster. Faster.

The waves were getting closer.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

He could see the tops of the waves now.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster.

Leonardo was within his grasp.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster.

He could make out individual waves now.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster.

Raphael slammed into his brother.

"Got you!"

Grasping Leonardo tight, he had enough time to hear his brothers scream before they slammed into the East River.

xxx

Summers in the sewers were…summers in the sewers. It was hot. The smell of the sewers was somehow worse. All the water made it more humid underground. Sometimes the only way to cool off were swims in the few pools Splinter deemed clean enough for them to come out without three unknown diseases. His favourite game as a child had been doing cannonballs, splashing his brothers in a wave of dirty water.

This wasn't like doing a cannonball. This was like jumping from the pools edge and instead of water, hitting a brick wall.

Raphael's shell slammed into the water first, taking most of the force, but the shock wave felt like it snapped his back and it pushed all the air from his lungs. He must have blacked out for a moment and when he came too, he was deep underwater.

He hurt—everywhere. It felt like he'd been in a washing machine, or a car crash, or both. His lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, but his body sensors were only slowly firing. Rather than a loud alert, it was more a gentle nudge, letting him know the single truth.

… you're drowning …

I know…

He hadn't realised his eyes were shut until he opened them. Somehow, high above him, he could see glimpses of the raging sea. He could see the murky trash filled water of the East River, the same water that was pressing in around him, dragging him down into the depths. He could see something, unmoving, slowly drifting above him.

… leo …

He watched for a moment, wishing his brother would move.

… why aren't you swimming? …

… why aren't you moving …

… no …

His brother, probably the only turtle to have fallen off the Bayside Bridge twice, was drowning just above him.

… no … no … I won't let you …

With a groan, his body trying to expel oxygen he did not have, he raised an arm above his head and pulled himself through the water. His body screamed and he felt the darkness creep up on him a little closer but he ignored it, raising his arms again and again and again until he stretched out his hand and grabbed onto his brother.

There was no movement from Leonardo, no tensing at the contact, no quick tug of his arm from his grasp. Panic overwhelmed Raphael, pushing back the darkness. He wrapped one arm around his brother, ignoring the louder screaming of his muscle, the deep pain in his arms, his shell, his head, his lungs, and he pushed himself through the water, one hand grasping his brother, the other beating faster and faster and his legs kicking and kicking and kicking as the darkness started to edge in on his vision again—

Raphael's head broke the surface.

His body fought between taking in a deep gulp of air and vomiting up everything he'd swallowed, but he'd taken the smallest of breaths when another wave hit and sent them under again.

The breath of air had given him a renewed burst of energy and with a scream that exploded from his mouth in bubbles, his new resolve to survive sent him clawing upwards towards air.

His head broke the surface the second time and he pulled Leonardo up beside him.

"Leo!" he shouted, unable to see his brother's face or whether he was breathing. "Leo!"

Another wave hit them, this one harder than the last. Raphael felt his brother start to slip from his grasp but he lunged forward and grabbed wildly, dragging him up again to the surface.

Leonardo's head resting on his shoulder, Raphael tried to stay afloat, keep their heads above water, and screamed his brother's name.

Relief suddenly flooded him when Leonardo coughed, bringing up all the water he'd had in his throat.

"I've got you!" Raphael shouted. "You're okay, I've got you!"

His brother still coughing but knowing that he was at least breathing, Raphael glanced over his shoulder. He could just make out the lights of Manhattan and with one arm firmly wrapped around Leonardo; he started swimming towards the shore.

xxx

It was slow going. Raphael felt like he'd been swimming for years. Leonardo was conscious but he was little more than dead weight in his arms. His own strokes weren't as powerful and before long, most of the battle was just staying afloat and hoping the water would crash them onto the shoreline. Finally, his hand brushed against something solid and he was hurling his exhausted brother over the guard rail, using the last of his energy to drag himself over a moment later.

Raphael didn't care they were laying out in the open in New York. They'd just fallen off the Bayside Bridge and swum through a storm. They deserved a moments rest.

After taking in several deep breaths, had air always felt so good?, he rolled over. Leonardo was on his side, still coughing up water. Raphael eyed the wound on his head and knew Donatello would be freaking out about infection. He then quickly brushed his hands down Leonardo's side. His brother hissed and tried to pull away, but Raphael was happy to see the wound hadn't grown.

Leonardo slowly sat up.

"Where, where are we?"

Raphael took a look around and recognised some familiar landmarks from years running the city.

"I know this neighbourhood. There's a sewer entrance nearby, come on."

He gently helped his brother to his feet and when Leo stumbled, he threw an arm over his shoulder. His body screamed but they could rest later. Now, they had to move.

A year ago, Raphael had spent a fair chunk of his time searching this area for his brother and the search had paid off. They ducked through a park, keeping to the shadows. Leonardo stumbled but Raphael kept a quick pace. Luck was on their side; the rain seemed to be keeping most people away and the old drainage duct he'd used on other city adventures was where he remembered it. It was also still open and soon, his memory leading the way, he was leading his brother home.

When they were far enough underground that Raphael wasn't afraid of being followed or seen, he found a raised bit of sewer wall and sat down, Leonardo dropping tiredly beside him.

"How do you feel?" Raphael asked. He was surprised when Leonardo lent his head on his shoulder, probably too tired to realise what he was doing.

"I don't want to take a bath for a year," Leo muttered.

Raphael laughed and wrapped an arm around his brother. He knew they needed to keep going. Donatello and Michelangelo would be frantic. If he knew, Master Splinter would be frantic. But there was something nice, sitting with his brother after surviving a 130 foot fall into a storming river that made him want the moment to stretch.

Leonardo's tired voice broke the silence.

"Why did you dive after me?"

Raphael took a deep breath in before slowly letting it out.

"I didn't want to make the same mistake twice."

Silence filled the space and when it almost became unbearable, Raphael opened his mouth.

"I'm really sorry, Leo. I am."

He paused for a moment.

"I know I can't change what I did. I don't even know if I can ever make up for it, but I need you to know I'm sorry."

Leonardo was silent for a moment before he slowly pulled away. Raphael felt the break of contact like a knife wound.

"It's a lot to take in," Leonardo said. "I…I don't know what to think. I just…"

His voice trailed off.

"I need space. I need time to think. I need—"

He suddenly groaned and held his head.

"I think I need stitches."

Raphael opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was stopped by the sudden ringing in his pocket. Glancing down in surprise, he found his waterlogged Shell Cell.

"These things are indestructible," he muttered. The light was faint when he flicked it open.

"You're alive!"

Raphael breathed out.

"We're fin—"

"Are you hurt?" Don said. "Where are you?"

Raphael glanced at his brother. Leonardo was leaning, half asleep against the sewer wall. In the faint light of the phone he could see a small trickle of blood making its way down his brother's face.

"Raph?"

"I'm fine but Leo's got a head wound. And there's something wrong with his side. I'll send you our coordinates—"

"I've got them. We'll bring the Sewer Slider."

"Good."

He flicked the phone shut and turned to Leonardo.

"They're on their way."

He wasn't sure if Leonardo had heard him. He also wasn't sure if it was for his comfort or his brothers, but he reached out his hand to clasp his siblings and didn't wipe the tears from his face until he heard the faint sounds of the Sewer Slider.

xxx

Falling off a bridge apparently wasn't something you could easily walk away from. Raphael spent the next three days in the medical bay. He wished he could say he spent the time working things out with his brother, with his family, but in fact, he just slept. Hours, days passed in the opening and closing of his eyes. Sound was distorted and he knew he ate during that time, but he didn't remember it. It was like he was operating on a different plane of existence. He was desperate to know about Leonardo, was he okay?, but he didn't seem to wake up when anyone was there and he wasn't able to stay awake long enough to ask.

Until one night when he felt someone tucking the sheet a little higher around him and he made a grab, his hand grasping someone's wrist.

"H-How's L-Leo?"

Was that his voice? It sounded like a lifetime smoker who had swallowed a room full of dust. He almost didn't recognise it.

Raphael felt the owner of the wrist stiffen and then relax.

"Don stitched him up and gave him some antibiotics."

Michelangelo…

"W-where is h-he?"

Why did it hurt so much to talk?

"He's sleeping just over there."

After a moment, Raphael realised his brother must have been pointing at something. He slowly, painfully, lifted his head. Two beds down, he could see another form curled up under the blankets.

"I-Is he—"

"He's fine. A little banged up, just like you. Well, more than you. Don's been giving you both something for the pain but it's making you sleep—"

"Tell him to stop," Raphael whispered. He let his head fall back on to the pillow.

"What?"

"Tell him to stop giving me something for the pain."

"Why?"

Raphael shut his eyes, not wanting to look at his brother and also hoping it would somehow stop Mikey from seeing the tear that was slowly rolling down his cheek.

"I deserve everything I get."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the TMNT.

**Note:** Apologies, I'm unsure when I'll be updating next but as always, thank you for reading and commenting.

* * *

**A public reckoning offers many things, but a quick fix isn't one of them.**

Master Splinter looked up, his eyes taking his son in. Raphael knew this was coming, the reckoning with his father, but he hadn't expected it to be with an audience. He could feel the eyes of his brothers, they knelt somewhere behind him. He knew what he'd done affected them too, it affected all of them, but somehow, their presence just made everything ten times worse. The only saving grace was Leonardo was still in the medical bay.

Raphael hadn't spoken to his brother since the tunnel. Not long after he'd refused to take any more pain medication, Donatello had moved him back into his own room. When the deep burn of his injuries started to twinge later that night, he'd be lying if he didn't say he regretted the decision. Yet, the pain was also something to feel in the hollowness of what he'd done. A small token to make up for his crimes. Raphael knew it did nothing but it felt better knowing he deserved it. All the same, he'd only recently been allowed to walk around and in fact, it had only been yesterday he'd been able to pull himself out of bed without groaning.

He'd been told not to go near the medical bay, and he hadn't. He spent most of his time in his room, alone. Raphael passed the time sleeping or thinking, mostly sleeping, and the only time he felt most at home was in the early hours of the morning when everyone else was asleep. But the silence was weighing in on him and he knew it was time to speak. He'd been summoned by his father but it was only because Splinter got to him first.

Raphael moved slightly and pulled a muscle. Actually, he wasn't sure which muscle he pulled. It just hurt. He tried not to let the discomfort show on his face, but his father picked up on it immediately.

"Are you in pain, my son?"

"I'm fine," he said, before cringing. It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't fine either. He glanced up at his father and saw that he'd come to the same conclusion. He tried again.

"I'm sore but it's nothin' I can't handle."

"If you would rather we waited—"

"No."

Master Splinter raised an eyebrow at him. Raphael hung his head.

"This has gone on long enough," he said. "I want it to be over."

Master Splinter let out a long sigh.

"Very well, my son. I am tired too." He settled himself down onto his knees. "Please, start from the beginning."

Raphael paused for a moment and then he started talking.

"The night Leonardo disappeared, we got into a fight outside April's apartment. I don't remember what started it or what it was about, but I remember telling Leo I hated him and wished he was dead."

He wasn't sure how long he spoke; the words just flowed out of him. Raphael was less the master of his own body and more the carrier. They, the words, took on a life of their own, weaving a story around him. He spoke with no emotion, just a retelling of all the events from the fight in April's alleyway to the events on the bridge, the fruitless search over the years, Leonardo making contact with April, and then to his most recent dealings with his brother. By the time he finished, his voice was hoarse.

"I told him, sensei," Raphael said. "On the bridge. I told him everything, well, I filled in the gaps from what I'd left out. H-he hasn't spoken to me since."

Raphael tried not to let how much that hurt tinge his voice, but it was like a twig trying to hold back a dam. The whole time he'd been talking, he hadn't been looking at his father but rather focusing on his father's hands clasped in his lap. He'd been worried that if he looked at Master Splinter, his father's emotions, or lack thereof, might affect him in some way, make him change his story. Twist it. Focusing on his hands had given Raphael a way around that and now, finally, he looked up.

Master Splinter had an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he sat back and regarded his son.

"And you have told me everything?" he asked.

Raphael nodded.

"I promise. I know that doesn't mean much, but I have."

One lie breeds another, which breeds another. How had he not seen that, right at the beginning? Raphael knew he'd told his father everything but all the same, sometimes he wondered how to distinguish between the truth and lies anymore. Had he lost the ability? Lost the right?

Master Splinter let out a deep sigh.

"Thank you, my son," he said. "That would have taken much courage to share."

Raphael didn't feel comfortable taking credit for courage when all his actions for the last few years had come from a place of guilt.

"I'm sorry, sensei," he said, his voice little more than a murmur. "I'm sorry for everything. For what I've done. For what I've said. For, for everything."

He paused for a moment before he continued.

"This isn't how you raised me. You taught me differently and, I'm so ashamed."

His voice wobbled but he took a deep breath, trying to push past.

"I don't know what happened. I thought if I found Leo, I could fix everything. That I just had to find him and then, everything would be okay. But it wasn't. I-I lost myself. I pushed everyone away, and I hurt so many people in the process."

He wiped a hand across his face. There was more he wanted to say, but he knew it was just a rehash of what he had already said. There was only one way to say sorry, but there were a million different ways to phrase it. He didn't need them all. He just needed to say sorry.

And he was. He felt it deep in his bones. Past the pain he felt at falling off the Bayside Bridge and slamming into the East River. Past the pain of the war he'd been waging on his brothers, on his family. On himself.

Raphael closed his eyes for a moment and then looked again at his father, waiting for his judgement.

Splinter slowly reached forward and poured tea into a cup. He swirled it around, as if it bought him time to think of what to say. Then, without taking a sip, he put the cup back on the table.

"It would be unfair to say I am not disappointed with you." He looked at his son. "I am, deeply disappointed. You had many chances over the years to relieve yourself of this burden, to seek the help and support of your family. Instead, you pushed us away."

Raphael dropped his head, but his head was brought up sharply by a hand under his chin.

"You will look at me while I speak to you."

There was a hardness to Splinters voice and Raphael wondered if his father was about to strike him across the face. He didn't but his gaze held him, even after he removed his hand.

"You have made many steps in your path to—Splinter paused for a moment and then kept talking as if there wasn't a word missing from that sentence—but you have much further to go. You ask for forgiveness and I hope it shall be granted, but in order to face the past and everything you have done, you must know the consequences of your actions."

Splinter drew back.

"And one of those consequences is looking whoever you are speaking with in the eye."

He contemplated Raphael for a moment.

"My heart saddens me that you have walked this dark path alone."

It wasn't a question yet Raphael felt he should answer it.

"I was ashamed. I thought I'd killed my brother."

"I don't believe for one second you meant for this to happen, or that you are capable of such an act."

"I doubt you think I was capable of everything I've done."

Splinter paused.

"This is different. I think you hurt your brother that night and I think it played a part in his fall, but I don't think you let him go. I think your mind fed you this story. You were plagued by so much guilt that your mind gave you something else to fester on."

Raphael didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

"I have spent much time," Splinter said, "thinking of a suitable punishment and have reached the verdict there is none that will immediately erase all that has been done."

Raphael tensed in his seat.

"Sensei?"

"You are sorry for what you have done but sometimes a sorry, as sincere as if might be, is not enough. And there is no punishment I can foresee that will fit this crime. But, that does not change the fact your presence in this lair at this time has us all on edge. You have suffered greatly, I will not deny that, but you have also helped breed toxicity into our home, into our family."

Splinter took a deep breath in.

"I know you can redeem yourself," he said. "But at this moment, I must think of this family. You have hurt your family and you have hurt your brothers, particularly Leonardo. We do not know yet the depth of the damage, but it must be given time to heal on its own. I am in the sad position of having to think only of this family and not of you, my son. As such, I think time and space will do us all good."

Raphael was confused and it took him a moment to work out what his father had just said.

"You're sending me away?!"

Splinter nodded.

"Time heals all wounds, and space sometimes helps too."

"But, where will I go?"

"Accommodation has already been arranged," Splinter said. "Mr Casey Jones has been in contact with Ms O'Neill. It appears he took a job on an offshore oil rig—Splinter paused as if questioning the intelligence of anyone who let Casey Jones near that kind of infrastructure—and has only just returned, hence him being out of contact. He was happy to hear Leonardo has returned to us and on hearing our current—Splinter paused again—predicament, he offered to accommodate you until you can return home."

Raphael blinked several times, as if unsure what he was hearing was true. Casey had been working on an oil rig? Who thought that was a good idea? Why hadn't he told anyone? Why had he just disappeared?

Who was here to tell? whispered that voice in his head. Yet, instead of clamping down on it or letting it run wild, he accepted it. There had been no one in New York to tell. April and him had broken up. Casey had been Raphael's friend and they weren't talking.

"I-I'm not sure about that," Raphael said. He brushed his arm across a scar on his left arm, one he'd received the last time he'd seen Casey. "We didn't part on good terms."

"He is aware of this. He also offered the farmhouse but I would prefer to keep you close at hand. The farm is too far away."

In the past, being allowed to stay at Casey's would have been a reward. Now, being dumped at the farmhouse and left their alone sounded like a better idea.

"I don't want to go," he said. "Sensei, please? Don't make me go."

Splinter shook his head.

"I know you don't, my son, but unfortunately, as I said, this isn't about you."

Raphael glanced once more at his father, hoping he would change his mind, but saw it was no use. His father was sending him away, and he could do nothing about it. Taking a deep breath and accepting his fate, Raphael nodded.

"Good," Splinter said. "You shall pack what you need and leave immediately."

"What?"

Splinter narrowed his eyes.

"I think it is best. Mr Cody will be in hospital for a few more days and I believe your presence places undue pressure on your brother. It seems Leonardo is starting to remember more and more of his life before the events we have spoken of, and I will not jeopardise that. He needs rest and space to recover."

Raphael opened his mouth a couple of times but didn't know what to say.

"You're sending me away?" he repeated.

"Only for a short time. I am sure everything will work out, it just needs time. You need time. You're brothers need time."

Splinter shut his eyes.

"And I must admit, I need time."

Raphael could feel his hands starting to shake and he clenched them into fists. And then immediately let go. He didn't want his father to think he was upset, but it had long been his fall back option—Don't show emotion, clench your fists.

Raphael bowed his head.

"As you wish, father."

"There will be some, I think you call them, 'house-rules'?" Splinter said. "You are not to leave Mr Jones's apartment without speaking to me first—under any circumstance."

Raphael almost shrugged but stopped himself in time and just nodded. He had nowhere he wanted to be—except for the lair.

"And you are not to contact your brothers in any way, especially Leonardo."

"What! But, sensei—"

"I am serious on this rule, Raphael," he said, leaning forward. "I am intent on giving your brothers time to heal, at their own pace.

"What if they never want to talk to me again?"

Splinter sighed.

"That is a bridge we will cross if we come to it. You need to let them come to you—he raised his eyes and glanced at his other sons before returning to Raphael—You have hurt them and they need time to adjust."

"What will I do at Casey's?"

"You will train. Meditate—Raphael stopped himself just in time from rolling his eyes but Splinter caught him anyway—Yes, you will meditate on what happened and your actions. You are free to watch television and read, but I expect you to not treat this as a holiday. You are going there to recuperate and heal, but you are also going there to think about what you have done."

That won't be too hard, he thought. It's all I'm thinking about at the moment.

Raphael bowed.

"As you wish, father."

**xxx**

"Hey."

"Hey."

Raphael was looking anywhere but at Casey. He took in his feet, the bottom of the fridge, the dusty cabinets, the window in the corner. Anything but Casey's face. And then Splinter's voice echoed through his thoughts.

"You ask for forgiveness and I hope it shall be granted but in order to face the past and everything you have done, you must face the consequences of your actions."

Splinter drew back.

"And one of those consequences is looking whoever you are speaking with in the eye."

With a sigh, he raised his head.

Casey was staring at him. He looked much older somehow. Was it the new haircut? The fact he wore an actual shirt with sleeves and a collar, rather than his usual outfit.

"You, ah, cut your hair?"

Casey grimaced and ran his hand over his head.

"Yeah, the job you know. Was a hazard, apparently. I dunno, I just don't think they liked it."

Raphael nodded, not quite knowing what to say. Casey as well looked uncomfortable.

"Doesn't get in the way as much as it used to so I just, uh, kept it."

His face reddened but in true Jones fashion, rather than opting for uncomfortable silence, he went in for uncomfortable small talk.

"It's not as easy to handle to be honest. I keep having to go in to get it cut and they always ask me what I want but I dunno so I—"

For a moment, Raphael was struck by the similarities Casey had to Cody and he was suddenly back in this apartment, getting the call from Cody. And then he was back in that carpark, snarling at his brother and throwing pieces of broken bottle at the car.

As the memory started to overwhelm him, he shut his eyes and turned away, as if that would somehow make it better.

Someone else I need to apologise too, Raphael realised. Cody wasn't on Splinter's do-not-contact list but he also knew it was a conversation he wasn't looking forward too.

He realised Casey had finally stopped talking. He glanced over at the human and noticed the concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Raph?"

"Yeah, I'm just…" he trailed off.

Raphael could feel that pressure building again, the pressure to lie, to not tell the truth, and he did the only thing he could think of to stop it.

"I'm sorry, Casey," he blurted out. "I'm sorry for, for…"

Compared to everything he'd done to his family, he couldn't even shift past that to consider what he'd done to his friend. Instead, he settled for the basics.

"I'm sorry for what I did. I can't even remember now, but I just—I'm sorry. For everything"

He remembered what Master Splinter had said and looked up at his friend.

Casey was running his hand through his short hair again.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said slowly. "I never believed Leo was alive. It must have been rough man, searching for all those years."

Raphael tensed. It would have been so easy to fall back into that narrative, but it led nowhere. It had been rough, but that wasn't the whole story.

"No," he said. "Yes, well no, I, that's not the truth. Well, not the whole truth."

He looked up at his friend and then indicated towards the couch.

"Got a beer?"

Finally, Casey cracked a smile.

"Got beer? Who doesn't have any beer?" Casey stepped towards the kitchen. "I've only just got back, but I think I left a couple of six-packs in the fridge."

Raphael cringed, suddenly remembering where all the beer had gone. He glanced over at the coffee table and saw the remnants of the last time he visited this apartment.

"Wait," he said, speaking up as his friend grabbed the fridge door handle. "I drank most of it."

Casey turned to him, his eyebrow raised. Raphael shrugged.

"I came here a few nights ago and, umm, found it."

He hesitated, unsure of his friend's reaction. It was one thing to turn his back on his friend, but breaking into his apartment to drink his beer?

Casey looked at him for a moment before breaking out into loud laughter.

"What a punk!" he said, an easy smile on his face. "There's a shop down the road. You settle in and I'll go get more, and I'll pick up some take-out. We've got a lot to catch up on!"

Without much more bother, Casey grabbed his keys and headed out the door. Left alone in the apartment, Raphael felt the briefest beginnings of a smile start to grace his face. He knew he had another retelling of his last few years coming up. He knew it was not the only one.

He glanced around Casey's apartment and already wished he was back at the lair. This wasn't his home. Casey was family but he wasn't his brothers, his father. He wanted to be with them with a desperation he could almost feel. But with a loud sigh, he knew this was his reality for the moment.

And again, the briefest flicker of a smile graced his face at the realisation that after his brief talk with Casey, he was quite sure he'd gained at least one friend back.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Time passes slowly for Raphael, but pass it does.**

Time passed slowly at Casey's. True to his word, Raphael didn't contact his brothers. He didn't leave the apartment. Well, he occasionally sat on the window sill late at night; half in the shadow of the curtain, watching the world go on around him. Sometimes he'd spend a few hours on the rooftop, an opportunity to get some fresh air after the staleness of the apartment, and an opportunity to get some space. He'd easily fallen back into friendship with Casey, while also knowing they were on fresh ground. It was like his friend had already forgotten what happened between them, and it was no more apparent than when Casey accidentally brought up Don, Mike, or Leo, and had to watch his friends face drop.

Raphael hadn't heard from any of his brothers in weeks. He'd sometimes ring the lair phone, hoping one would accidentally pick up so he could just hear their voices, but he assumed Donatello's caller ID stopped that. Every time he rung, he got Splinter who never said anything about knowing what he was doing (that Raphael was hoping to 'accidentally' get one of his siblings), but he also never handed the phone over. Splinter was right. Raphael had to wait for them to come to him.

He spent his days training, utilising Casey's gym equipment, or meditating. Training alone wasn't as helpful, or as fun, as training with others. And no matter what everyone said, there were only so many weights you could lift before you began to question your own sanity.

Meditation didn't help much. And not from the point that it didn't quieten his mind. It did, but his mind was already quiet. He knew what he had done wrong. He knew what he had to do to fix it. In fact, he'd already taken most of the steps to fix the situation. He'd told the truth. He'd faced, and was experiencing, the consequences. Now he just had to wait for his brothers. Meditation didn't hurry a process. Time. Time was the only answer.

He could feel the darkness of a depression creeping up on him as the days and weeks without contact moulded into each other. He was appreciative of Casey. Casey had another mechanics job now, so Raphael had the house to himself during the day but company at night. Casey didn't go out much anymore so they spent most evening's kicking back on the couch watching television and eating take-out, until Raphael got sick of it and promised to cook as long as Casey bought vegetables.

He had never really cooked before. He never needed too, Michelangelo was the houses chef and there was nothing wrong with his cooking. Raphael had to almost start from fresh. He had a few accidents, only one fire, but he soon found cooking to be almost as therapeutic as training. It surprised him and he wasn't sure what was going to happen when he returned to the lair—if he ever was allowed to return.

Raphael was lying on the couch one Thursday. It was late in the afternoon. He'd already trained, lifted weights, tried to meditate, cleaned the bachelor pad to an acceptable level (which made the apartment the cleanest it had ever been since Casey moved in), dinner was already in the oven, and it was only 3 o'clock. Casey wouldn't be home for a few more hours and Raphael had completely run out of things to do.

He'd been staring at the ceiling, contemplating nothing, when he heard a buzzing sound nearby. The sound echoed back to another time he'd laid on the couch and heard that buzz and he was instantly on his feet, scrambling for his phone. He kept it plugged into power, concerned that the one time someone tried to contact him, there would have no battery.

After weeks of nothing, no texts, no phone calls—ANYTHING—someone had got in contact.

His hands shook as he flipped open his phone. He had a text.

M: Feel like a visitor tonight?

Relief flooded Raphael. It felt like the sun had come out from behind a dark cloud and he immediately text back.

R: Yes. Theres a roast in the oven. Want to come for dinner?

He put the phone down but grabbed it again when it buzzed immediately.

M: Sure! I'll be over after the sun goes down.

Raphael held the phone in his hand, considering his options. He didn't want to make his brother think he was ungrateful or didn't want to see only him, but he also had to know.

He quickly typed a message.

R: How many are coming? So I know how many plates.

His phone buzzed again a moment later.

M: Just me. And Splinter said I can't talk about anything.

Raphael tried not to let his disappointment overwhelm him. He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone buzzed again.

M: Do you still want me to come?

Raphael quickly replied.

R: Yes! Let me know when youre on your way?

He threw the phone back onto the table and took a deep breath.

It's a start, he told himself. Mikey's a start.

And he felt the briefest of smiles break across his face.

xxx

Seeing Michelangelo was like a breath of fresh air. From the moment he stepped into the apartment, it was like the past few months, past few years in fact, hadn't happened. Michelangelo asked Casey questions about his job and teased him about his haircut. Everything seemed normal.

Casey went to bed early, whinging about an early start but Raphael knew he was giving the brothers some time to themselves. He turned to his brother as Casey's door closed.

"Thanks for coming."

Mike flashed him a wide grin.

"It's been fun, we should do this more often."

Raphael reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulling his attention back.

"I'm serious," he said, "I was starting to think, umm, never mind."

He started pulling his arm back when Michelangelo grabbed him.

"You started thinking what?"

Raphael shrugged, suddenly feeling very awkward.

"That you'd all, that you'd, forgotten me."

He cringed at how it sounded, but it was also the truth.

Michelangelo went to speak, but he cut in.

"Maybe not forgotten, but decided you definitely didn't want me around."

"You know that's not the case right?" Mike said, his eyes wide. "This isn't permanent, it's just…"

His voice trailed off. Even he was aware how long it had been.

Michelangelo sighed and turned back to his older brother.

"I wanted to come earlier," he said, fiddling with his bandanna tails "I know what you did was wrong and it, it hurt. I don't think I'll ever understand why, well I understand why but maybe how you could do, everything you did—Mikey shrugged—but we lost Leo for so long, and then he was back and you were gone."

He sighed.

"I just want my family back. That's all I want. But even when I figured that out, even then I wasn't sure."

"Sure of?"

"How Leo would react? Or Don."

"…oh."

"I'm sorry—"

"Mike," he said, reaching forward and grabbing his brother's shoulder. "Don't. You have nothing to be sorry about. I did this. To everyone, and to myself. I'm the one who needs to be sorry."

The brothers were silent for a moment, before he glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"How, how is he? Leo?"

Michelangelo squirmed.

"You know I can't tell you. Splinter was pretty firm."

He looked up and Raphael could see his brother fighting with himself.

"I haven't heard anything for weeks," Raphael said, his voice quiet and withdrawn. "Splinter won't tell me much more than he's fine. I just, I—"

He let out a frustrated sigh and said no more.

"He is fine," Michelangelo said. His brother was always nervous around silence. "He seems a lot happier. Cody is buying an apartment in Manhattan—"

Michelangelo slammed his mouth over his face, as if he could somehow cram the words back in. He narrowed his eyes and threw his brother a dirty look.

"You did that deliberately."

Raphael shook his head.

"Nope, that was all you."

Raphael glanced at his brother.

"You might as well finish what you were going to say, you told me most of it anyway."

Michelangelo scowled at him.

"If you tell Splinter," he warned, waiting until Raphael promised he never would.

"Cody said he'll buy an apartment so his business can have a Manhattan address," Mike said, "But we think he partly did it so Leonardo could be closer to us. It was hard on him—Leo. He said he felt like he should be in two places at once. When he was at the lair, he wanted to be in Long Island and when in Long Island, well, you get the picture. Also, after what happened—Michelangelo shuddered—Cody's still not fond of driving long distances."

"So Leo will be part-time living in the lair?"

But Michelangelo shut his mouth and refused to say anymore on the subject. It was more news then Raphael had had in weeks so he took what he could. His brother was alive. That was all that mattered.

He shut his eyes and then asked the only other question he had.

"Mike, how's Don doing?"

"Raph!"

"It doesn't feel right asking about Leo and forgetting about him," he snapped, but there was no malice in his words.

Michelangelo took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly, as if weighing what Raphael was saying.

"I didn't invite you here to get information," he said.

"You didn't invite me here, I invited myself."

"Fair enough."

Michelangelo paused.

"Don's fine, but Don's still angry."

Michelangelo glanced at his brother and then glanced away.

"Really angry."

Raphael tried to get a little more out of him but Mike refused to say anything else. But that was fine. He'd take anything he could get. He'd got a brother back. He'd got some information. That was fine. Everything was fine.

xxx

"You got a visitor!"

Raphael looked up. He'd been lying on the couch, his current place when he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Mikey?

He flicked his head to the window. As he expected, sunlight was streaming in. Who had come to see him at this time?

He got up and walked into the kitchen. Standing there, her hand awkwardly clasping her shoulder-bag, was April.

Raphael froze. April was the last person he expected to come and see him. Donatello was much higher on the list. In fact, he'd expected April to never talk to him again.

Is she here to chew me out? he thought. He suddenly found he was unable to speak. They stood there for a few moments not talking, before April strolled forwards. Raphael was half expecting a slap, but was more surprised when arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug.

He felt his body tense and eyes wide, he glanced over at Casey. His friend just shrugged and then turned and without a backwards glance, walked out the front door.

A moment later, April let go and took a step back.

"April, I'm…"

He sighed.

"I feel like all I've been doing is telling everyone how sorry I am."

He glanced up at her.

"I didn't think you'd ever speak to me again."

April picked at something in her nails.

"I thought about it," she said slowly. "But then I realised it wouldn't change anything. You did what you did, and you paid the price. What more could I expect from a punishment? It's like sending someone to prison but then still punishing them after they got out."

She raised her head and looked at him.

"I haven't forgotten what you did, but I forgive you. I don't think, no, I know you didn't mean for what happened, or to hurt me. Or at least, you wouldn't do it again."

"What about you and Casey? I feel somewhat responsible for what happened between you two."

April let out a sad sigh and shrugged.

"You're not to blame, we were having problems already. Anyway," she said, a small smile playing across her lips "I'm happier now than I've ever been. I don't regret what happened like I used too."

April took a step forward and clasped his shoulder.

"You don't need to say sorry to me because I know you are."

"April—"

"No, I'm serious. Strike that apology off your list."

She took a step back and glanced at her watch.

"Look, I have to go, I have ... somewhere to be." She flashed him a smile. "But I wanted to stop by; I was tired of it hanging over us. Don't be a stranger when you're free of this place."

And then she was gone.

Later that night, Raphael and Casey were sitting on the couch watching television when he turned to his human friend.

"So, you and Apr—"

Casey was already shaking his head.

"I wondered when you would ask," he muttered before letting out a huge sigh and sinking lower into the couch. "You're not the only one that stuffed up. That ship's sailed."

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling.

"We decided we'd try and be friends, but nothing else. She wouldn't say, but I think she was on her way to a date this afternoon."

Raphael shrugged.

"You never know—"

"Trust me," Casey snapped, in a rare show of anger. "It's done. Drop it."

Not long after, Casey went to bed but it was a long time before Raphael heard any of his house-shaking snores echoing from his room.

xxx

About three weeks after the first time Mikey came over and two weeks since his brother had established a routine of dropping in every few days; Raphael opened Casey's window to find not one but two turtles standing there.

His first instinct was to tense and a wave of anger rolled off him, crashing into the wave he could feel coming off Donatello. The night Don confronted him in the kitchen quickly flashed before his eyes. The two brothers stood for a moment glaring at each other as Michelangelo fidgeted next to them.

Maybe Splinter was right keeping us separated for a while...

Don turned his glare to Mike. "This was a bad idea," he muttered. He then turned to leave.

"Don, wait."

He turned back to face Raphael who suddenly didn't know what to say. Angry words raged within him and he could feel them on his tongue, waiting to be realised. He knew he was teetering on the edge of a knife. It just depended on which way he wanted to fall. Which cut he wanted to make.

Screaming obscenities at his brother would make him feel better, but he'd probably also lose him forever. Their relationship was damaged to the point that he wondered if it was repairable. Did he really want to take a pickaxe to it?

Raphael took a deep breath in.

"It's good to see you."

He tried to smile but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. Yet, he also knew it probably didn't look too much like a grimace.

He pulled the window open a little further.

"Come in."

And he waited.

Donatello looked him straight in the eyes, as if he was an x-ray machine trying to bury himself deep into his brother's mind. Again, that rage built itself up in Raphael but this time, it was easier to let it go when he breathed out.

Without a word, Donatello slipped past him and into the apartment.

As Raphael busied himself in the kitchen, he watched his brother at the table.

Michelangelo was uncharacteristically quiet, as if worried to create too much noise which would break the harmony of the situation, the thin layer of ice they were skating on. Donatello was casting his eyes around Casey's kitchen, and then around to take in the lounge area. He then slid slightly sideways to glance down the hallway.

"This place is cleaner then I remember?"

"I haven't had much to do," Raphael said, not looking at his brother as he placed dinner on the table. It was purely coincidence but he'd made a large plate of lasagne, a dish he knew was one of Donatello's favourite.

He tried not to watch as his brother seemed to analyse the meal placed in front of him. Donatello seemed to sniff at it before taking a slow bite. And then another faster one.

Dinner was a quiet affair and afterwards, finding no dessert in the freezer, Michelangelo slipped out to grab some ice cream. Donatello rolled his eyes as their youngest brother went out the window.

"He did that so we could talk."

Silence descended over the kitchen. Needing something to do, Raphael started cleaning up the dirty dishes.

"Mikey's been badgering me to come for weeks," Donatello muttered, breaking the silence.

"I'm glad you came."

"You're face said otherwise when we arrived."

Not knowing what to answer and not wanting to lie, Raphael said nothing. Donatello regarded him for a moment and then spoke.

"Mikey keeps talking about how he wants his family back. How he wants—he waved his hand in the air—all his big brothers together again."

Donatello narrowed his eyes.

"What I want is for none of this to have happened. You. Leo. None of this. I want for us to have all come home that night from the bridge, but you don't always get what you want."

Donatello then crossed his hands over his chest.

"And what is it you want, Raphael?"

The words leapt unbidden from his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

"I want to come home."

Donatello took a deep breath. He glanced down at his hands and Raphael watched him clench them into fists.

"I'm not ready for that," he muttered, his voice clenched like his hands. "Sorry."

Raphael felt a wave of despair hit him. So his brother wouldn't see it play across his face, he grabbed the dirty dishes and turned to the sink.

"Okay."

"Don't be like that," Donatello snapped.

Raphael turned back to find his brother on his feet, his eyes flashing.

"Don't act like the puppy someone kicked. You did this to yourself!"

"I-I know—"

"You reap what you sow, Raphael!"

It was then Raphael realised Donatello wasn't actually yelling at him. Well, he was. He was standing in Casey's kitchen, his fists clenched, his eyes narrowed to slits, shouting, but he wasn't shouting at Raphael perse. He was shouting at his memory of his brother.

Raphael of the past would have fought back. He would have shouted, screamed in fact.

New Raphael stood there and let Donatello exhaust himself. That wasn't to say that new Raphael wasn't fighting old Raphael hard for control. But new Raphael knew he was getting what he deserved.

Finally, Donatello sat down heavily on his chair with a loud sigh; his head in his hands.

Raphael grabbed a dish towel and turned back to the dishes.

"Feel better?" he asked over his shoulder.

"…yes."

He could hear Donatello panting.

"I…I just needed to get that all out."

Raphael put down the cloth and sat across from his brother. He too had a lot he wanted to scream. Wounds that still seeped couldn't just be closed off. They still needed care.

Maybe it's too early for me to go back to the lair, he thought, watching his sibling. For both of us.

But then he thought about the hours he spent alone in Casey's apartment and he didn't want to face it anymore.

I want to go home.

He let out a loud sigh.

"I'm sorry Don—"

"Don't."

Raphael looked up. Donatello was shaking his head.

"I'm not ready to hear it."

"Just hear me out on this."

He waited a moment and when Don said nothing, he continued.

"I did something wrong, many things wrong, and I'm paying for it. Splinter sent me here to give you all a break, but also as punishment."

Donatello snorted but Raphael cut in.

"It ain't been all wild parties and great times with Casey," he muttered. "It's been awkward and…and I miss home. I miss you guys, I miss my hammock, I miss training. I don't belong here, and while I appreciate what Casey's done because I hate to think where Splinter would've sent me if I couldn't stay here, I want to come home."

He looked at his brother.

"I know it might seem like justice to you, but I know what I did was wrong. I can't change that, no matter how long you make me stay here—"

"Splinters making you stay here—"

"Because you won't let me come home."

They were quiet for a moment.

"If it's because you can't stand to be around me, fine, I get it," Raphael said. "But if it's to punish me, I might as well go live in the Battle Nexus because there's no amount of punishment or time away from the lair that will be enough to fix what I've done."

Donatello was quiet for a moment.

"I need to tell you something," Don said, not looking at his brother but down at his own hands on the table. "I, I never believed you, about Leo, and—Donatello sighed—and, you were right. He was alive. That makes this hard as well. You did so many wrong things, but you were also right. Our brother, the one I made us all bury, was alive. And, I'm sorry for that, that I didn't believe you. But, I don't know, I'm just so angry about what you did—Don clenched his fists on the table—all the things you did. It comes in waves and I-I'm not used to feeling this way. I'm so confused."

Don looked up at his brother.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry for what you did, I'm sorry for what happened to you, and I'm sorry for what happened to all of us. But at the moment, all I can focus on is the anger."

Raphael felt something catch in his throat. He knew he'd hurt his family, he knew, but it was in sentences, conversations such as these that he saw it. He'd told the truth and because he'd told the truth, he'd foolishly thought it would fix everything and he could go home.

But that's not how the world worked.

"I-I'll think about it," Don said.

Raphael shut his eyes and nodded.

Splinter's voice echoed in his head.

Time. This will take time.

The brothers were quiet for a moment before Don spoke.

"Even if I forgive you," he said, watching his brother closely. "You know Splinter won't allow you to come back until Leo is okay with it?"

Raphael let his breath out.

"I know," he said.

Raphael tried not to think about his brother too much. It hurt. He knew it was nothing compared to what he had done to him, his pain, but it also fed into something else. What if his brother never forgave him? What then? He didn't want to think of the possibility.

"I know," he said, repeating himself.

He glanced at his brother.

"How, how is he? Leo?"

Donatello sighed and went to open his mouth, but Raphael, sensing a dismissal, beat him to it.

"I know Splinter said you can't tell me, Mikey reminds me about it all the time, but I just, I—he let out a long sigh—I just have to know if he is okay?"

Donatello chewed on his lip before he spoke, picking his words carefully.

"He's… fine."

Raphael paused for a moment.

"Does he, does he ask about me?"

There was something in his brother's face that made Raphael's stomach drop.

"That bad, hey?"

Donatello grimaced.

"I don't, I, I wouldn't get your hopes up about coming home anytime soon."

The brothers were quiet again.

Raphael felt as if the walls of Casey's apartment were coming in on him, as if everything was crumbling around him. He had an urge, not for the first time but definitely the strongest, to run from the apartment and out into New York. Out to Long Island. To a two-story house. To the attic. And beg until ever sin had been wiped clean.

Don cleared his throat and Raphael was back in Casey's apartment. Back to his punishment, yet he realised, he was also speaking to one brother he thought would never speak to him again. For the second time that night, Splinter's voice echoed in his head.

Time. This will take time.

"What about us?" Don asked, breaking the silence. "You and me, and Mikey? What do we do now?"

"Tonight, or into the future?"

"Both?"

Raphael shrugged.

"Tonight? If you're tired, go home. If you're not, stay and watch a movie. Mikey should be back soon with dessert. Into the future—he shrugged again—we'll work it out."

Donatello's mouth twitched into a smile, the first one of the night.

"Sounds like a plan."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Brother, Found**

Spring slowly drifted into summer. Casey didn't believe in air-conditioning so the two inhabitants spent much of their spare time fanning themselves on the couch. It seemed to be the hottest summer Raphael had ever experienced, but then he'd never spent so much time on the surface. He usually only came out in the dark, when it was cooler.

When Raphael's ban from the lair entered its third month, he began to realise he might be at Casey's for the long haul. He missed the lair, his hammock, his family, like a physical wound, but it didn't seem Leonardo was going to come around anytime soon.

It also placed Master Splinter in a delicate situation, as he explained to his son one evening on the phone. While he still believed in the original arrangement, and stressed nothing there would change, there was no denying they lived a dangerous life. While Raphael had kept up his training, a student needed a master and at Casey's, he didn't have one. He would eventually fall behind and such a slip could be deadly. It was decided he would go to the lair three times a week for evening training sessions with his brothers, and also accompany them on patrol. Unless Leonardo decided to come for a visit, then Raphael would receive a phone call that he wasn't to make the journey. One phone call and everything slipped away.

Walking into the lair on the first night he was allowed back, he felt as if his legs would give out. He'd lived there for most of his life yet parts of the lair had already started to become fuzzy in his memory. His brothers had moved things in his absence and suddenly, he was a stranger in his own home. Were the plates kept in the second or third cupboard? Was it the third step down that creaked, or the fifth?

Raphael didn't know what was worse—being banned from the lair completely or being allowed to go back on certain evenings, only to be told to leave again.

For the first week, he was dismissed as soon as training was over and sent away, but eventually he was given a little more time at home. He'd stay and watch a movie with Michelangelo, tinker with something in the garage with Donatello, or even sit and talk to his father. One evening, he did something that had been nagging at him for weeks and walked into his own room.

He felt more than ever like a stranger. It smelt musty and unused, but there was his hammock. His bookcases. His weights. It was his. His place in the world was here.

Suddenly, he felt a force pulling him, and he stepped out and walked into the room next door. Feeling along the wall, he flipped on the light in Leonardo's room. Unlike his room, this one felt used. The bed was made. There was a backpack by the door. A new desk with drawers. He ran a finger along the bookshelf, which had books in it again, and it came back clean.

He was engulfed by a deep feeling of sadness. He missed his brother. He missed talking to him. Laughing with him. Playing games with him. He missed Leonardo. If only his brother understood how sorry he was. If only he could tell him.

He glanced at the bookcase, the desk, the backpack, and suddenly had an idea.

Raphael found a pen in the first desk drawer but no paper, so he ripped the last couple of pages out of one of the books. Sitting at the desk, he had a moment's hesitation before starting to write.

_Leo,_

_I'm sorry. Sorry for everything I did and said, and everything I didn't do or say. I wish_

He was ripping that section of paper up and throwing it into the wastebasket before he got any further.

_No_, he told himself. _Simple is usually the best._

He sat down again and wrote.

Leo,

I'm sorry.

He was weighing up whether to sign his name—who else was going to be sorry?—when he stiffened. Someone was standing behind him, though they had made no noise.

Raphael closed his eyes.

"I want my brother back," he said. "I want my family back. I want to come home."

He turned. Splinter stood in the doorway with a thoughtful look on his face.

"I know you do, but this isn't—"

"About me," Raphael said. "I know. It's about Leo."

Suddenly, the idea of slipping the note into his brother's backpack felt like another form of deceit. He looked down at the note in his hand. It had felt so easy, a simple fix, but he knew that wasn't the answer. With a sigh, he scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the wastepaper basket.

"I'm sorry."

Splinter walked in and placed a hand on his sons shoulder.

"I know."

They were like that for a few moments, student and master, father and son, before Splinter cleared his throat.

"I think it was time you returned to Casey's, my son. Go say goodbye to your brothers."

With a defeated nod, Raphael left the room. For a moment, Splinter eyed the wastepaper basket and the two clearly visible pieces of paper inside. He was about to reach in and retrieve them, when he stopped. After thinking for a moment, he instead left the room empty-handed, turning the light off as he went.

**xxx**

Leonardo watched as Michelangelo amused Cody with a story from their youth. For him, it felt like both the first time he'd ever heard the story, but also like an incident from his life he would naturally remember. It was almost as if the story was a puzzle he had already completed, but with Michelangelo retelling it, he was able to again put the pieces back into place.

Sitting on the couch in the lair, he felt like another piece had fallen into place. Like his name.

Leonardo. His name was Leonardo.

When he was at the lair, he definitely felt like Leonardo. Or at least, he felt like it was his name. It felt familiar. It felt like Leonardo should be the name bouncing off the walls of the lair. It was the right name Michelangelo should call when he wanted him to come to dinner, or Donatello wanted him to see something in his laboratory. He felt comfortable answering to it. It felt right.

It was the name he heard called in his memories of, well, before. Before the fall. Before he was torn from his family. Before his life was changed forever.

Yet, he couldn't help the fact that when he was with Cody, he wasn't Leonardo. He was Ryan. Ryan that had washed up on the beach in a storm. Ryan the Reader. Ryan the Turtle in the Attic. Ryan made sense. It was familiar.

Cody had tried to call him Leonardo, but he often slipped up. It wasn't much of an issue when it was just the two of them, but when Cody came with him to visit his family and called him Ryan, there was always that pause. His other family, his first family, would glance at each other with a simple question visible across their faces. Who is Ryan? Who are you talking about?

So Leonardo was also Ryan? Ryan was also Leonardo? He supposed it was something he would just have to get used too.

"And then Raphael—"

Leonardo stiffened. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as if it was going to smash its way out into the open. He was sure someone had noticed, but after glancing around, he realised no one had. Michelangelo was still talking. Cody was listening. Donatello was laughing. Master Splinter—

Master Splinter was watching him.

They made eye contact and after a moment, his father smiled, a sad distant look that bore no happiness, before he turning back to the conversation.

A white hot bubble boiled inside Leonardo. His father had been nothing but encouraging. He hadn't forced him to forgive Raphael or even talk to him, and the few times they spoke about the situation, he had been supportive. Master Splinter had made sure he had the space to heal, and had sent Raphael away to ensure it. Yet, Leonardo also knew his father was starting to lose his patience.

_No,_ he thought. _No, not his patience. Maybe hope? He hoped I would have forgiven Raphael by now. That I would've forgiven and forgotten._

That white hot bubble of anger boiled harder, and he clenched his fists.

_How could I forgive him? How could I forget what Raphael did?_

Leonardo got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Michelangelo asked, mid-story.

"My room."

He ignored the feeling of eyes boring into him as he made his way across the room and upstairs. Reaching the sanctity of his room was like taking a deep breath after a long swim.

His room was how he left it the last time he was there. That had been weeks before, the last time he'd stayed the night. His excuse was Cody needed help settling into the apartment but the truth was, he didn't want to run the risk of bumping into his brother.

His brother.

The very thought of Raphael had him clenching his fists again. He hadn't spoken to him since the tunnel, after their fall, and they hadn't really spoken then anyway. Leonardo had spent most of the first week after the fall sleeping, barely able to stay awake to eat, let alone speak. By the time he was no longer bedridden, Raphael had already left for Casey's.

Leonardo had only realised it later but with his brother gone, it was the first time he had been able to breathe. Truly breathe. And he got the chance to think, really think about what had happened. What his brother had done. Done to him. Done to their family.

He wasn't thinking about the fight, or about whether Raphael let go. It was simpler than that.

His brother had lied. From the moment they met, until the carpark—Raphael had lied.

Leonardo had never been so angry in his life. It was a deep anger. It burnt inside him to the point he sometimes thought he'd burst into flame. Other times, he felt physically sick. Among the many things Raphael had done, his brother had deliberately ensured all contact with his family had been severed, and then left him in Long Island with nothing. No means of contact. No news. Nothing. How could his brother have done that to him?

He understood the overarching why. Raphael had a secret and in a misguided attempt to keep the truth hidden, his brother had done the only thing he could think of that would work. Keep Leonardo away from his family. Keep Leonardo away from the truth.

And it had succeeded. Raphael's plan had probably worked longer than it should have. It had been a success.

But it had also, in the end, been a failure.

Raphael had held the lit match too long and been burnt. But his brother wasn't the only one that had paid the price. Leonardo still felt like he was picking up the pieces of his life, a life he thought he'd gotten back when Raphael walked into his attic room. Now the pieces were lying scattered across the floor, and he didn't know what went where.

How could his brother have done this too him? How could he ever forgive him?

Leo thought he had time at least to work out these questions, safe in the fact his brother had been all but banished from the lair, and was not allowed to contact him. He had the space and time to breathe. Just breathe. He used the time to get to known his family again, or to remember that he knew them already. His life before the fall was coming back to him, sometimes in a crazy rush of colour and emotions and memories, and other times, he'd be caught in a slow river of sights and smells and tastes. But always at the back of his mind rested Raphael.

Raphael, Raphael, Raphael.

His brother had let him down. Had lied to him. Lied to everyone. His betrayal tinged conversations. Whenever his name was mentioned, it was like the air was sucked from the room. Every time the phone rung, Leonardo tensed, knowing the source of much of his misery was probably on the other end.

He knew Raphael wanted to come home. He knew Master Splinter wouldn't allow it until Leonardo was ready. He didn't think he would ever be ready.

And in that, lay a problem.

He'd begun to notice the way Splinter would look at him. How his eyes would then cast over his family and then settle on the empty chair. The empty plate. The empty space.

Sometimes the look would become too much, and Leonardo would leave. Go and stay with Cody for a few days. A few weeks. Get his head straight. Banish his brother from his mind. Banish his father from his sight. He thought he had found a way to deal with the problem, or at least, a way not to deal with the problem. Then he learnt Master Splinter had allowed Raphael to come back to the lair for training.

Now, every time he came over, Leonardo saw traces that his brother had been there—a beer can on the sofa, the weights set had been moved, a new collection of DVD's that had been watched. Mikey and Don accidentally letting slip about a recent visit. It felt like a slap in the face and he hadn't wanted to face it. So he'd stopped sleeping at the lair. He'd stop visiting for a while.

This was the first time he had been back in weeks, and yet, Master Splinter still had that look.

_Maybe I made the wrong decision to stay tonight?_ he thought. _Maybe I should have stayed away a little longer. Make them realise that pushing me only results in me cutting contact. See how they feel about that?_

It occurred to him that wasn't much different to what Raphael had done to him. He had started asking questions and Raphael had cut contact. Splinter was asking him a questions, will you forgive your brother?, and he was cutting contact.

_It's different_, he thought. _What I'm doing is different._ Though he wasn't quite sure how.

Leonardo pushed the thought from his mind and took another step into his room. And stopped.

Something was different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the room had been disturbed in some way. He gently placed his pack down on the ground and flicked on the light. Leonardo's eyes scanned his bed, the bookshelves, and his desk. Nothing.

But there was something in the wastepaper basket.

He cocked his head and reached in, pulling two pieces of scrunched paper out. It looked like they'd been torn from a book and he eyed his bookshelf. If Mikey had used one of his books as scrap-paper, he was in A LOT of trouble.

Leonardo started to unravel one of the pieces—

And a wave of hot red anger slammed into him as he held the paper up to the light and read the handwriting.

_Leo,_

_I'm sorry._

With a snarl, he scrunched up the piece of paper. Raphael had been in his room. Raphael had been in his room!

He spun, ready to pick up his backpack and leave, only to find Master Splinter standing in the doorway.

Leonardo held up the pieces of paper, and his eyes glinted.

"He's been in my room," he said, his voice low and sharp. He threw the paper at his father's feet. "So much for not contacting me. So much for giving me space."

Master Splinter let out a slow sigh. His eyes cast down towards the paper, before looking back up.

"I am sorry, my son—"

"You shouldn't have let him back into the lair," he said, speaking over his father. "He can't be trusted. He shouldn't have been here!"

"This is also your brother's home—"

"You said you would give me space!"

"And I have," Master Splinter said. "Many months, in fact. I have let you work through your emotions and to heal. I will not lie that I had hoped by now—"

"Well, it's not enough! I need more time!"

Splinter's eyes narrowed for a moment.

"You have had time, my son. We have all given you time and space. And you have a right to be angry at your brother, but I am worried that if you do not face your brother soon, you will never face him. You will never face this problem."

Splinter took a deep breathe.

"My son, people make mistakes—"

"But they don't keep making them!"

"Sometimes they do," Splinter said, his voice gentle. "Some people make mistakes all their lives, the same mistake over and over again. And they pay for it—"

"And what about the price I paid? Raphael lied. About everything. And he would have kept lying—Leonardo was suddenly shaking and he raised his voice louder—How long was he going to leave me in Long Island! All alone. I was all alone—"

His voice suddenly caught and he couldn't finish what he was going to say. Leonardo turned his back on his father.

"If he'd cared about me," he said after a few moments, "truly cared, he wouldn't have done that."

Leonardo heard his father shift behind him.

"You paid a heavy price, I will not deny that," Splinter said. "No one can deny that. I cannot imagine what you have been through. But your brother has also carried a heavy burden for many, many years. His burden, as much as his actions in carry it, has caused him to push everyone away in his pursuit of finding you. You did not see him over those years."

Splinter's voice trailed off for a moment.

"We lost you and more times than I care to count, I feared we would lose Raphael too. His search consumed him. And he paid a heavy price, both now and before. Do not think being sent to stay with Mr. Jones is in anyway a reward. I can assure you, of all your brothers, there is no worse a punishment then being sent away from family."

Leonardo turned back to face his father.

"He seemed more than willing to do it to me? To keep me from family."

"Is it possible, my son," Splinter said, his voice soft, "He only did it, what he did to you, because he cared? Cared about what you would think of him if you learnt the truth? Misplaced care, but care indeed? And now, you have a choice. You can forgive him, or you can choose not to, it is up to you."

Splinter was quiet for a moment before bending to pick up the paper.

"I do not think it is possible for you to move forwards without facing the reality of your past. Forgiving does not mean forgetting."

Splinter stepped forward and placed his hand on his sons arm.

"Your brother, he does care for you. He always has, but he chose a destructive way to show it. And your brother is learning. He wrote these messages but, and I hope you will forgive me, it was I who left them in your room."

Splinter let out a long sigh.

"I have meditated long and hard on this, but I truly think he has learnt from his past. He lost you, and then he lost you again, along with his family and his home. He will not make the same mistake twice."

Splinter took a step away from his son.

"But you have a decision to make. And it is your decision alone."

Splinter watched his son, who was quiet for a moment. Finally, he raised his face to stare at his father.

"I don't want to see him. I don't know him anymore. I'm not ready."

Master Splinter bowed his head.

"As you wish, my son."

He turned to leave, and then turned back.

"You say you do not know your brother. Maybe the issue is you don't have enough information?"

Splinter nodded towards Raphael's room.

"Your brother kept meticulous notes of his search over the years. When you are ready, maybe your answers will be in there?"

**xxx**

Raphael lay on Casey's roof. He was alone, something he'd become used to, but if anything, this was the worst day to be alone. It wasn't that he lay in the deepest shadow surrounded by darkness as the sound of parties echoed around him, or that Casey had left him to go to a friend's party for the night—Raphael had encouraged him. The issue was it was July 4th—his and his sibling's joint birthday—and soon the countdown to the fireworks would start. And he was all alone.

Leonardo was visiting for a birthday celebration and the rules were the rules. Raphael had seen his family the day before and told himself it didn't matter. What was his birthday but another day? He wasn't a child anymore, he didn't care. He'd lied to himself until he'd woken that morning and realised the truth. He was alone. For the first time in his life, he was going to be alone on his birthday.

It sucked.

He let out a loud sigh and listened to the people in the apartment across from Casey. They'd been playing drinking games all evening and they'd just given another loud cheer.

"You're going to regret that tomorrow," he muttered, slowly turning back to focus on the night sky, and the one lone star that stood out against the darkness.

He was about to sigh again, for no reason then because he could and he wanted too, when he heard someone land softly to his right on the rooftop.

Raphael sat up straight, his sai quickly falling into his hands. He hadn't seen or heard anyone come up the stairs so that meant someone had come from a nearby roof.

He heard someone shuffle for a moment before a voice called out softly.

"Raphael?"

He quickly got to his feet, not believing his ears.

"Leo?"

Out of the nearest shadow emerged his oldest brother. He moved hesitantly, as if unsure of his surroundings. Leonardo was still dressed in human clothing, a pair of sweatpants, and a large shirt trying to cover the obvious lacking humanness of a shell.

"What, what are you doing here?" Raphael stammered. "Where's Mikey? Don?" His eyes suddenly widened. "Does Splinter know you're here?"

Leonardo moved his shoulders, something halfway between a shrug and a stretch, and said nothing.

After all this time, Raphael couldn't think of anything else to say. A million things buzzed through his head, yet he couldn't form them into words. Luckily, it was Leonardo that broke the silence.

"I found your message."

He glanced up. Raphael furrowed his brow.

"In the trash," Leonardo said. "In my _room_."

Suddenly, Raphael remembered the conversation he'd had with his father and cringed.

"Damn. I-I didn't mean to leave that there."

It probably looked like he'd set the whole thing up, but then he realised Splinter had been in the room as well. It wasn't like Splinter to let something like that slide, and he had wondered if his father had let it happen.

Raphael pushed that thought aside and voiced the first thing that came to his head.

"That was weeks ago?"

The question hung in the air.

Leonardo sighed.

"I haven't been at the lair much, so I only found it recently. And, and then when I found it, I had a lot to think about."

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"I was angry when I found the paper. It meant you'd been in my room even after Splinter told you to stay away and give me space."

Raphael cringed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted you to know how sorry I was. I hadn't heard from you in so long, I-I was worried you'd never speak to me again."

Raphael sighed and then repeated what he already knew.

"But it wasn't about me, it was about you."

Leonardo nodded and then looked away.

"I've thought about it, never speaking to you again."

Raphael felt like the ground had fallen away underneath him. He took a quick step forward.

"Leo, please—"

His brother held up his hand.

"Let me finish."

"I'm sorry. Please, Leo, you have to know how sorry—"

"Let. Me. Finish."

Raphael felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Had Leonardo made contact, finally made contact, only to say this was the last time they would ever speak? What did that mean for Raphael? Would he never see his brother again? Would he never be able to earn back his trust? Would be never be allowed to go home?

Raphael waited for his brother to speak. Leonardo took a deep breath.

"I want to hate you," he said, watching as Raphael flinched away. "I truly do. From the moment we met, you lied and kept lying until you could lie no more. I thought I had finally found my family, an identity, and then I discovered it was all built on a lie."

Leonardo shook his head.

"I thought I had everything, and then I had nothing."

He paused for a moment before he continued.

"Even with my memories back, I told Splinter I didn't know who you were. Nothing made sense anymore. Were you my brother, or a stranger? And he said I didn't have enough information to make a decision. So I went into your room, looking for answers."

They were quiet for a moment. Raphael realised his brother seemed to want him to ask a question.

"What did you find?"

"Bookcases full of research," Leonardo was quiet for a moment. "You really tried to find me."

Raphael shut his eyes. He thought back over those books and all the pain they had caused.

"Didn't do much good," he muttered. "You were right, you found yourself. You found April. April helped find you. I-I just got in the way."

Leonardo nodded—which Raphael couldn't help notice—but he also wore a thoughtful look.

"But you did search for me. You tried. For years. I-It took me awhile but I read them all—now it was Leonardo's turn to cringe—sorry but I thought I might, I don't know, learn something."

"Did you?"

Leonardo nodded.

"You made a mistake and you tried to correct it."

He then cringed again.

"You then made other mistakes, but you'd tried. For years, after everyone else had given up."

Leonardo took a deep breath in.

"And I realised I was about to make another mistake. And—he paused for a moment—and I think enough mistakes have been made. I won't forget what you did to me, but I also can't forget what you did to try and find me."

He looked at his brother.

"I forgive you."

Raphael blinked. Twice. Had he just heard correctly?

"What?"

"I forgive you," Leonardo repeated. "I forgive you."

Raphael was frozen for a moment, and then crossed the distance and threw his arms around his brother.

There was so much he wanted to say. So many emotions he wanted to give voice too. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'll never hurt you, or our family again. I've changed. Instead, he held onto his brother harder, as if worried he'd let go and find it was all a dream.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured. "I'm so sorry, for everything."

They stood like that for several moments, and then Leonardo drew away.

"I know," he said, a soft smile on his face. "I know."

Suddenly, there was a burst of bright light above them, followed by a giant boom. They both looked skywards.

"Fireworks," Leonardo said, a rare look of happiness across his face.

Raphael smiled, the first true smile he'd had in months. Years.

"Want to watch them with me?" he indicated a space on the floor. "Best seats in the house."

"Sure," Leonardo said. "Then we can all go home."

He then indicated over his shoulder. Standing on a nearby rooftop was Donatello and Michelangelo. In his hands, Donatello held some popcorn, and Mikey was waving.

Raphael turned back to his older brother, who smiled.

"Together," Leonardo "We'll watch them together."

It occurred to Raphael, sitting there with his older brother, as his two younger brothers fought over the leftover popcorn, watching the lights explode above him; he'd lost more than his brother on the bridge that night. He'd lost a part of himself. He'd slowly lost his friends. His family.

And in the end, he hadn't found his brother. His brother had found him. And finally, after all those years of searching, finally, he was going home.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT.

* * *

**Brother, Lost: Epilogue.**

Raphael's face stung from where the rain, whipped up by the wind, lashed him like glass. He could hear the cars on the bridge above, the sound of their tyres on the wet concrete masking the name he screamed into the night. A flash of lightning over the East River illuminated the scene before him. He dove forwards, his hands clawing at the air.

But there was no one there.

Raphael woke as he felt his hammock tip, a feeling he'd become all too familiar with over the years. He braced himself for a hard thud, but his face instead slammed into something soft. After a moment, he ran his hand over the surface.

_Not concrete_, he thought, feeling its texture. _Is that, is that a bag?_

It took him a moment to realise he'd fallen onto his duffel bag. The family were leaving for the farm the next morning, and it took him several moments to remember he'd left the bag not under his hammock, but by his bedroom door.

Raphael glanced over at his doorway, and in the gloom of his bedroom, he could just make out the empty space where his bag had been. _Had_ being the key word. He shook his head a few times. Tomorrow he'd figure out what had happened, tonight—or this morning?—he was just happy something had saved his face from the concrete. This wasn't the first time he'd fallen from his hammock, but he'd thought after finding Leonardo, being forgiven, and returning to his family, his nightmares would stop.

They hadn't.

They weren't as frequent. They didn't haunt him like they used too, and he no longer dreaded going to bed. However, they had changed. Now, he never dreamt of letting go of Leonardo. Instead, he'd hear the scream but whenever he'd lunge for his brother, there was no one there. He hadn't decided if that was better, or worse.

To divert his mind, Raphael shut his eyes and instead listened to the lair around him. He could hear the hum of some machine in Don's laboratory, Michelangelo snuffling in his sleep, a tap dripping in the kitchen. He quickly noticed the one sound he couldn't hear. He quietened his mind and reached out further. Nothing. With a loud sigh, he got to his feet. He'd just have to check.

Raphael wasn't surprised to find the light next to his brother's bed still on, bathing the room in a dim glow. After spending years in an attic with moonlight and a little light pollution for company, Leonardo was still struggling to adapt back to the lair's night-time pitch darkness. Donatello had salvaged the nightlight from the dump, and no one had yet commented that Leo still left it on when he went to bed.

From the doorways shadow, just standing far enough back to be in darkness, Raphael watched his brother. Leonardo might have struggled with some parts of moving back into the lair, but he hadn't lost some of this other habits, such as making no sound while sleeping. More times than he wished to count, Raphael had stood like this to make sure Leo was there; not trusting the reason that he could not hear his brother was because Leonardo breathed too quietly, rather than everything having been a dream and his brother was still missing.

Raphael shook his head. His brother was alive. His brother knew the truth. His family knew the truth. His nightmares…

He let out a sigh.

His nightmares were just bad dreams.

Raphael stepped further back into the shadows.

Rubbing his eyes, he was about to head back into his room when he spotted a faint flicker of light coming from across the lair. Someone else was awake. Splinter? Thinking back to a time not that long past when he'd often seek out his father after waking from a bad dream, Raphael only hesitated a moment before he padded over and knocked, not waiting for an invitation to slide the door open. He still never did.

Candlelight bounced off the walls giving the room a warm feeling. Raphael's eyes took in the crumpled sheets that spoke to his father at least having attempted to sleep, and finally settled on the individual in question. Splinter knelt at the little table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, and was pouring himself some tea. After a moment, he waved his son over.

"Tea?"

"I'd prefer beer."

Master Splinter said nothing, but when the tea cup appeared, Raphael noticed his father filled it to the brim, probably as punishment.

"Be careful, my son—"

"Don't—"

"The tea is hot."

Raphael groaned, scrunching his face to block his father's triumphant look.

"It wasn't funny the first time, sensei, and it hasn't been funny every time since."

"And yet, you still come share tea with me," Splinter said, his eyes twinkling. "What is not funny about that?"

Raphael rolled his eyes and took a sip, scolding his tongue on the hot liquid. They sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying each other's company. After some time, he nodded at the bedding.

"Still having trouble sleeping?"

Splinter placed the cup down and shook his head.

"No, not anymore," he said. "Not since you and your brother have returned to us. I have not slept this well in many, many years."

Raphael placed his cup down on the table, and tipped his head.

"What happened tonight then?"

"I believe Michelangelo used a little too much sugar in tonight's dessert," Master Splinter said. "I tried to sleep, but it was in vain."

Raphael snickered.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gone back for the second helping?"

Splinter narrowed his eyes, and then quick as a flash, filled Raphael's tea cup back up to the brim.

"Hey!"

"Shhh, your brothers are sleeping."

"You don't fight fair," Raphael muttered. "You know I can't drink this stuff fast. I'll be here all night!"

"I am a ninja," Splinter said, waving his arm. "Find a samurai if you want a fair fight."

The pair returned to silence, as Raphael blew on his tea, trying to cool it down.

"And you, my son?" Splinter asked, sitting back a little. "You have not as often called on me at this late hour. While I have missed our conversations, I have not missed the reasons that sent you from your slumber. What brings you here tonight?"

Raphael shrugged.

"I had a bad dream."

"About that night?"

Raphael looked away.

"Kind of," he said. "The dreams changed. Before, I thought I'd killed Leonardo so I'd always dream about him falling, and about me letting go. Now, the dream is almost the same but when I reach for him, no one is there."

Raphael shut his eyes, as if trying to protect himself from the image in his mind. From what he thought it meant.

"Unlike last time," he murmured. "I'm all alone."

Master Splinter took a deep breath.

"What do you think this dream means, my son?"

"It's just a dream," he muttered.

"Were you're other dreams, other nightmares, just dreams and nightmares?"

Raphael shut his eyes, as if to protect himself from the truth. His dreams of letting go of Leonardo had come from his memories, or what he thought were his memories. His memories of fighting with his brother on a rooftop. Of hurting him. Of leaping for him as his brother fell. And then, memories, whether he created them or not, of letting his brother go.

"No," he whispered. "They weren't. I thought they were real."

He glanced up at his father, and Splinter nodded.

"So what do you think this dream is about?"

"I don't know—"

"My son," Splinter said, his voice little more than a murmur, "This mystery is small compared to the other mysteries you have solved in the past. I know you can solve it, if you try. I shall ask you again, what do you think this dream is about?"

Raphael let out a sigh and sat back for a moment. He had thought about it, he'd thought about it a lot, but he didn't know if he was ready to put words to his thoughts. He glanced again at his father and knew Splinter would not pass harsh judgement. Or at least, judgement that wasn't deserved.

"I think—he cleared his throat—I think I'm still scared."

"Scared of?"

"Being alone."

Splinter sat back and nodded.

"Go on."

Raphael hesitated, and then started speaking.

"I'm worried everyone says they have forgiven me," he said, "but they might wake up one day and change their mind. Or, that this is just a dream and I'll wake up, and Leonardo will still be missing, or dead—"

Splinter reached across and grabbed his sons arm.

"This is not a dream," he said, squeezing his arm. "I can assure you of that. Your brother is alive. You did not kill him."

Raphael shut his eyes, but Splinter shook him from his thoughts.

"I had hoped to speak to you once we returned from the farm, but it seems you have pushed my hand," Splinter said. "Each of your brothers has expressed concern about the way you act around them. That you are there in mind, but not in spirit."

"Sensei?"

"You are cautious around them. You act like you will break them, or that you will hurt them."

Raphael clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"But I did. I hurt them. I broke this family. I—his voice shook—I will never understand how Leo ever forgave me. How anyone was able to forgive me. And—"

His voice caught and he wasn't able to say anything further. After a moment, Splinter reached forward and lay a hand on his sons arm.

"And what, my son?"

Raphael took a shuddering breath in.

"I'm worried I'll do it again."

He looked up at his father, and shook his head.

"I won't take that chance," he said. "I won't hurt them again. I won't let myself."

"Your brothers have forgiven you. Your friends have forgiven you. I have forgiven you," Splinter said. "I think it is time you forgive yourself."

Raphael took in a shuddering breath.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I, I just, I don't, I don't deserve it."

"You do."

Raphael shook his head.

"I can't," he said, his voice a murmur. "And I won't."

He suddenly got to his feet.

"I better go—"

Splinter's eyes narrowed and he slammed his hand down on the table.

"You will sit, Raphael," Splinter said, his voice and eyes hard. "We have not finished talking."

"But sensei—"

"Now."

Left with no room to argue, he slowly sunk to his knees.

"And you will look at me—Raphael instantly raised his head, knowing what the rest of the sentence would be—when I am speaking to you."

They sat in silence for several moments.

"I cannot make you forgive yourself," Splinter said finally. "You have to do that yourself."

"It took long enough for my brothers to forgive me," Raphael muttered, "You can't expect me to forgive myself right away."

"No, I can't," Splinter said, "but I expect you to try."

Raphael looked away. He knew of what Splinter spoke. He knew he walked around his brothers as if on egg-shells. He didn't start fights; he helped out where he could. He had opinions on nothing. If they wanted to go see Casey or April, they went. If they wanted to watch something on television, they watched it. If Don needed help in the laboratory, he got it. If Mikey wanted help in the kitchen, he got it. If Leonardo wanted some company on a run, he got it. He didn't want to upset anyone. He didn't want to create waves. His way of forgiving himself was never given his brothers the opportunity, the chance, to hate him again.

"I'm trying, sensei," he murmured, "but I'm always worried I'll do something, or say something, that will hurt them. Or remind them that I hurt them. Or both."

"You cannot engage with your brothers if you treat them like glass."

"When you break glass, it cuts," Raphael said, "and you bleed."

"If I wanted to discuss metaphors, I would have spoken to Leonardo or Donatello."

"I think it's actually a simile—"

"Raphael!" Splinter snapped, glaring at his son. "I want you to take this seriously. You have been given the opportunity to heal alongside your brothers, you should take it."

Splinter took a deep breath.

"I know you don't think you deserve it, but you do. Your brothers would not have forgiven you if they did not think you earned it, or wanted you to try."

Splinter shut his eyes for a moment.

"You don't like disappointing your brothers, do you?" he asked.

Raphael shook his head.

"Then why are you disappointing them with this?"

"That's not fair," Raphael said. "You know what I did. You know what I've done."

"Did. Done," Splinter said, "These are all words for the past. I am talking about the future. There is no point our family having made our way to this point in the present, if you will spend the rest of your life focused on the past."

Splinter smoothed a hand down his robes.

"And what did I say about a fair fight? If you want a fair fight, go and see Usagi. But I am a ninja, and I am your father. You must learn from the past, but not let it destroy your future."

Raphael was quiet for a moment.

"I will do better, sensei."

Splinter raised his eyebrows.

"I," Raphael said, before he cleared his throat and said with a stronger voice. "I will try to forgive myself. Or at least, work at it. For you, and for my brothers."

Splinter nodded.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Raphael finished his tea and after bowing, he stepped back out into the lair.

Forgive himself? Could he forgive himself? After all he'd done? He'd been forgiven by his brothers, by his father, by his friends; was he able to forgive himself? He didn't want to. He wanted to carry this pain with him for the rest of his life, to remind him of what he did. But was that fair on him? Was it fair on his family? He mightn't feel like he could forgive himself completely now, but could he maybe in the future if he worked for it.

Raphael sighed as a voice from the past drifted back him.

_Time. It will take time._

The sentiment was as true now as it was then. Yet, he'd still had to work at it, repairing the damage he'd done, to himself and to others, and at the moment, he wasn't doing anything to forgive himself. But what could he do? Tomorrow, today?, they were heading to the farm. The trip had been planned for months, and the whole family was going, Casey and April included. Cody had even been invited; Raphael had asked him the same night he had visited his new apartment to apologise for what he had said and done to him. He knew Leonardo would have asked anyway, but he thought it might have been part of a peace offering. Cody had graciously accepted, but Raphael sometimes wondered how much was honesty and how much just good manners. Anyway, he hoped to restart the beginnings of a friendship Cody and him had started to have.

The family, everyone, would relax for the next month. There were already plans to go fishing, camping, and generally enjoy the last weeks of warm weather before the seasons started to change towards winter. They'd share stories around the camp fire, and he knew Michelangelo had packed enough board games to keep them entertained. Then they would return.

Return to the lair. Return to the memories. The reminders. They might have changed with the passing of time, but the lair would be the same. Everything would still be the same. Raphael would go back to his room and everything would still be there. All his reminders. His failings. His bookshelves. His research. How could he forgive himself, when he was constantly reminded of his failure?

Suddenly, he had an idea.

He knew Donatello had stashed a couple of cardboard boxes in his laboratory, and he went to retrieve them. They were sturdy, perfect for what he wanted. Hoping his brother would not miss their presence, or at least would forgive him for the theft; he shuffled his way back to his room, and flip on the light, nearly shouting in fright. Leonardo was sitting on his hammock.

"Give a turtle some warning?" Raphael grumbled, walking into his room and dumping the boxes on the floor. He then crossed his arms. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"You woke me earlier, and I wanted to check on you," Leonardo mumbled, tiredness pulling at his voice. "You were with Splinter for ages."

"I woke you?"

"When you fell on the duffel."

Raphael tipped his head.

"How did you know about, wait, did you move my bag?"

Leonardo chuckled and then yawned loudly.

"Y-Y-You do it so often. I can hear you falling out of your hammock through the wall. I thought you'd like to land on something softer than your face."

Mystery solved.

"Thanks," Raphael muttered.

Silence descended between the brothers.

"So, what were you talking about?" Leonardo asked. "Or am I not allowed to know?"

Raphael turned away.

"It's nothing."

"It must have been something, you were there for ages. Was it about _that_ night."

Raphael took a breath in. This same conversation twice in one night? Give him a break.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"And I do."

Raphael spun and looked at his brother.

"What?"

"We never talk about it."

"Why would we?" Raphael snapped, trying to keep his voice quiet. "After what I did, after what happened?"

"Not talking about it doesn't mean it didn't happen—"

"I know that."

"Then, what are you afraid of?"

Raphael turned away. Leonardo didn't say anything for a moment, and finally, Raphael spoke.

"I had another nightmare," Raphael said, not looking at his brother. "Well, I've been having it for a while. I used to dream about diving for you and then letting go, but now when I dive for you, no one is there—Raphael shuddered, but then continued with a lower voice—Splinter was telling me, that I should, he said I needed to forgive myself, for what happened, to you, to, to, to everyone."

Leonardo was silent for a moment before he nodded.

"I see."

Raphael grimaced. What was he doing, talking to Leonardo of all people, probably his biggest victim, about this? This was his burden, not his brothers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't right; it's not your problem—"

"I think you should."

Raphael looked up.

"What?"

"Forgive yourself," Leonardo said. "You treat us like we are going to bite."

"Splinter said something about treating you like glass," Raphael said.

"It's true. You move around us, not with us. You're always tense, like you're worried you'll say something wrong or—"

"Or do something," Raphael muttered, before looking at his brother. "I dunno. I just spent so long lying and hurting everyone, I'm worried—"

"You'll do it again?"

Raphael nodded.

"I have faith in you," Leonardo said. "You won't, and if you do, it'll be an accident."

"But Leo—"

"Raphael," Leo said. "I forgave you; I've already told you this. You need to let this go."

"But what if you realise it was a mistake?"

Leonardo looked away for a moment. He studied the far wall before turning back to his brother.

"Sometimes I hear you talking while you sleep," he said, his voice low. "That is why I know you will never do it again."

Raphael stood still for a moment, looking at his brother with a confused look on his face.

"What, what do I say?"

"You just, you're just always saying sorry. You say sorry in your sleep, the same as you say it when you're awake. I know you're sorry, and so does everyone else. You need to let yourself be sorry, otherwise, we can't move on."

Raphael took a deep breath in, and then let it all out. Somehow, he felt lighter.

He looked up at his brother.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"And stop thanking me," Leonardo said. "Get into a fight with me, or something."

Raphael shook his head.

"I don't want to."

"Fine," Leo said. "But just stop beating yourself up about it. You walk cautiously around us, and then we walk cautiously around you. I don't know what to do. If you don't, I'll—suddenly his eyes widened and then he shrugged, as if he had no care in the world—I might just go live with Cody. He's a lot more fun and he's got such a spacious apartment—"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would," Leonardo said, a wide smile across his face. "He has such a nice view."

Raphael clenched his fist.

"Great!" Leonardo said, taking in his brothers clenched hands. "Yes, fists, show your emotion"

"I don't want the only way I interact with you guys is through anger," he muttered.

"No, I don't want that either," Leonardo said, "But I want something other than fear. Can you promise me that?"

Raphael took a deep breath in.

"Okay."

Leonardo smiled, and then pointed at the boxes.

"What are they for?"

Raphael nodded at his bookcases.

"I thought I'd pack away all my research. I feel like it's sometimes hanging over me. I thought, if I got rid of it from my room, I wasn't forgetting it or pretending it didn't happen, but…"

"It wouldn't always be in your face?"

Raphael nodded, and then he turned away.

"I thought maybe I should burn it—"

"No!"

Raphael looked at his brother's startled face.

"Why not? This is just a memory of what happened, how I lost you, lost my family, lost myself."

Leonardo got off the hammock and came to stand by his brother, looking him in the eyes.

"Or is it a story, a memory of how you found your brother, how you found your family, and will one day find yourself?"

Raphael chuckled.

"I'm serious," Leonardo said, narrowing his eyes. "Without this, I don't think I would've forgiven you, or at least known where to start."

Raphael grimaced and turned away.

"Leo—"

"I'm serious."

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear about you not forgiving me."

"But it's true."

Raphael let out a sigh and turned back to face his bookshelves. Maybe this was part of the process, another way to come home.

"Okay," Raphael said. "I won't burn them, but do you have any ideas of what to do with them?"

"We'll just shove the boxes at the back of Don's lab. He'll never notice."

xxx

Removing all the books and dismantling the shelves took less time than Raphael thought it would. Or maybe he was just enjoying the time with his older brother. They talked in low voices about past and present, present and future, memories Leonardo had of Long Island, what they hoped to do at the farm, less about adventures Raphael had during his search, but they were still there.

All those years of work, all those countless hours of searching and writing and pain fit neatly into four cardboard boxes. They sealed them with a few layers on tape and wedged them at the back of Don's laboratory. Walking back to his room and taking in the blank space, Raphael wouldn't lie, he felt ten times lighter. It was like a bad memory, a stain, had been removed.

"Thanks, Leo," he said. "I mean it."

"No sweat."

Raphael glanced at his clock. It was almost 5 am, about the time everyone would start getting up.

"No point going back to bed?"

"Nope," Leonardo said, rubbing his eyes. "Anyway, there's nothing to do on the drive, we can catch up on sleep then. Cody can't believe we make the journey in a trailer."

"He's welcome to join us if he wants?"

Leonardo laughed.

"He might take us up on the offer; I hear things are still tense with April and Casey. He might want to avoid sitting with them up the front."

Raphael shook his head.

"Not true. Casey's in pretty good spirits. Apparently April hasn't had much luck with online dating, so he feels like he might have another chance."

"That's not what I heard from Don—"

"Who heard what from Donnie about Casey and April's love life?" came a sleepy voice from behind them. They turned to find Michelangelo, half-asleep and leaning against the door frame. He rubbed his eyes and then glared at his brothers. "And why does no one tell me anything? I asked Don and he said he knew nothing."

"Who's saying my name in connection with gossip?" shouted another voice from another room. "This is the last time I tell anyone anything!"

"My sons!" came another voice from the direction of the kitchen. "As your father, I am upset you are talking about your friends in such a manner. However, I am deeply troubled no one has shared any rumours with me. We have half an hour until April and Casey are due to arrive, and I want you to all come down to breakfast immediately and tell me everything you know!"

xxx

Later that day, as the sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains in rural Massachusetts, as Michelangelo was setting the table on the lawn in front of the house, as Donatello brought dishes out from the kitchen, as Splinter meditated under a nearby tree, and Casey and April helped Leonardo and Cody string a party banner between two trees; Raphael excused himself. He headed off away from the group, off away to the forest, to a spot he had only visited once before.

His brother 'grave' no longer made him sick, and looking down on it, he no longer had the urge to shout and scream and rage, or run away, or all combined. The 'grave' that had never contained anything, and the plaque that bore words that were never true, were still there, though the forest had started to reclaim them. It took Raphael a few tries, but he was eventually able to pry the plaque from its resting place. He wasn't done though, as he started walking in the opposite direction, not stopping until he was standing on the shores of the farm's lake. It was here he turned the plaque over in his hands, reading the inscription on the front. He then turned and looked behind him.

In the distance, he could see Michelangelo and Don had finally set the table with enough food to last several courses, and everyone was slowly taking their seats. Even from this distance, he could see Leonardo looking around for his missing brother, and having spotted him, he waved him over and shouted: "Raph, come on! It's time to eat!"

"I'll be there in a minute!" he shouted back. Then he turned his attention back to the plaque, and he traced his finger over it.

"When you were made," Raphael murmured, "my brother was lost. I was lost. And I lost so many more things since you were laid on my brother's grave. I did and said so many things for which I will never forget."

He looked up at the lake.

"But my brother has returned," he said, a smile breaking over his face. "The truth has been told, I have been forgiven, and I, I am working at forgiving myself. We were lost, now we are found, and we don't need you anymore."

He took a deep breath and then with all his might, he threw the plaque out into the water. He watched until it had sunk out of sight into the depths. And then Raphael turned, and walked back to his family.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
